













LIFE WAVES 


BY 

FRANCES COOK STEEN 

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Accept life as you find it, 
And make the best out of it. 


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It is the little things of life 
That vex the soul, 

The little things of life 
Make up the whole. 
Some little things are written 
In this little book, 

Have patience friend 

And take a little look. 





Copyright, 1922 
By 

FRANCES COOK STEEN 


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(greeting 

Whether or no there is any poetry, or what is gen¬ 
erally termed as such, in these verses, I leave to those 
who may read them. All I know is that the thoughts 
which they contain came to me from time to time, and 
have been penned according to my ability. 

Whether or no they contain a thought that may be 
considered as helpful or cheering to another is not for me 
to decide, and it is with some reluctance that I now offer 
them for publication. In doing so my purpose is to 
add my one note to the great invisible song of life, and 
thereby, if such be possible, to add to its greater harmony. 

To those nearest and dearest to me, to my dearest 
friends, and to those who may be interested in life’s ebb 
and flow, these selections are affectionately inscribed by 

THE AUTHOR. 


One little look, one little smile, 

May sweeten life for many a while, 
Subtract the little loving things from life 
and what is ours? 

Just long hot summer days without 
refreshing showers. 

Blow out the little lamps that light the way 
Freeze up the little streams that gaily play, 
Blot out from frozen days the sun, 

The added figures give the sum. 









LIFE WAVES 


5 


DEAR MR. CRITIC 

I know you’re a hard old fellow to please, 

And have upset many a plan; 

So I’m going to ask you some questions, 

So won’t you reply, if you can? 

Now why do you scramble our verses, 

That we write with poetical pen, 

Why do you beat them 
And stab and maltreat them, 

Do you think you could put them together again? 
There’s many a poet been spoiled in the making 
By your untimely aid and unmerciful raking. 

You twist up the words and harp on the letter, 

Do you really think you could do any better? 

’Tis the same with the painter of pictures, you know 
It has to compare with a “Turner” just so! 

And if it does not, it may lie there and rot, 

For the “Critic” has smiled and said “No.” 

Now the poet and painter are both in their graves, 
For they could not make things go, 

So they starved in their pride and had to abide 
Because Mr. Critic said “No.” 

Yes, the poet and painter are now in their graves, 
And slumbering peacefully there, 

While the “hunter” is rushing from palace and hall 
For the work of this painter to hang on his wall. 
And the poet’s “poor work” which refused him bread 
Is coming to life, tho’ the poet is dead. 

And now I would like to ask who’s to blame, 

That these artists while living, were knocked out 
of the “game” 



6 


LIFE WAVES 


CROWDING 

To and fro, to and fro, 

In this wonder-world we go. 
Everything was made for us, 

If ’twere more we’d count it plus. 
And we step upon the toe 
Of our neighbor a,s we go, 

Head thrust forward, elbows out, 
Never caring whom we rout. 

And we ever plunge and rush 
Onward in the maddening crush, 
Seldom thinking to delay 
To help another on the way. 

UNDERSTANDING 

When the morning mists of life 
From our vision roll away, 

Then we view life’s panorama 
In the clearer light of day. 

May no dimming shadows linger 
To obscure the broadening way, 

May the brightness of the noontide 
Open wide the door of day. 

When for us the .shadows lengthen 
And the mile-stones fewer grow, 

And the evening overtakes us 
In the twilight’s softening glow. 

May there steal within and o’er us 
When the flame is burning low, 
Joy and peace and understanding 
That we long have sought to know. 



LIFE WAVES 


7 


CHRISTMAS EVE 

Gently falls the snow 
Pure and white, 

Soft and light. 

Covering all the town 
All sere and brown, 

With heaps of down. 

A fairy forest making, 

Falling so silently 
On bush and tree, 

Every branch and twig and bough 
Wears a coat of purest snow, 

Piling high on post and litter, 
Crowning all with pomp and glittor. 
O beautious sight 
Of calm delight, 

Now the evening’s dimming light 
Falls upon the world in white, 
White and grey 
The shadows lay, 

Evening merging into night, 

White and shadowy forms unite. 


THE LITTLE BLUE MOTH 

Butterfly flitted thru the balmy air, 

When he chanced to spy a “lady” fair 
Sitting nearby with folded wing 
Smiling in the balmy air of spring, 

In his eye went a look, in his heart went a pang, 
And he cleared his throat and lovingly sang: 

“0 Miss Butterfly, fly with me 



8 


LIFE WAVES 


In the balmy air happy and free. 

Your home shall be a lily fair 

And you shall feed on the honey there.” 

His lady-love dressed in her suit of blue 
Looked shy and said, “I will fly with you.” 

I’ve always longed to fly away 
And sit in a lily the live-long day, 

Then he rose in the air, to follow she tried 

But the flight was too high for the little blue bride. 

So she fluttered down in calm relief, 

And returned to her seat on the cabbage leaf. 


WISH 

To live today 

As if a thousand years were mine, 
Cheerful alway 
Whether it rain or shine. 

Each passing day 
To mark with good deed done, 

To strive alway 

To finish well the work begun, 
That each fair day 
Be filled with fairer thought, 

And still hold sway, 

Until thereby the pattern wrought 
Upon life’s loom 
Shall all life’s sweetness borrow. 

And shed its bloom 
And radiance on a bright tomorrow. 

To strive today 
That I may live aright. 

Nor fear the way 
If I shohld die tonight. 



LIFE WAVES 


THE OLD OAK TREE 

As I wandered along in a mild reverie 
My eye caught the form of a stately oak tree. 

Its branches so sturdy and strong as they grew, 

Its green glossy leaves richly patterned in view, 

In its cool shade I rested, I craved its protection 
From the sun's beating rays nor fearing detection; 

Its tireless arms reaching over above me, 

Like a mother e'er watchful to hover and love me, 

And I thought as I gazed at the rich foliage above me 
Of its beauty and strength with such power to move me, 
I thought of the days of the long, long ago, 

And they passed through my mind like a river’s soft flow. 

Again I am back on the broad rolling lea 

Making crowns from the leaves of the old oak tree. 

And again from the acorns which fell to the ground, 

We make “cups of tea” and pass them around. 

And we sip the rich nectar in image content, 

For a child loves the pleasures which nature has sent. 
And I think of the stream by the side of the lea, 

Where we floated its leaves on a “turbulent sea.” 

Now leaping, now dancing, now dashing along, 

I still hear the swish of the brooks rippling song. 

Like the leaves of the oak on the stream by the lea, 

Our friends float away from you and from me, 

And only sweet memories remain of the past, 

But these we shall cherish and hold to the last. 

I awake from my dream and over my head 
The quivering branches are still overspread. 

The sun has gone down in the far western sky, 

And the shadows have waved me a silent good bye, 

And I think of all places to dream and to be 
Is under the boughs of a spreading oak tree. 

Now the quiet of evening has settled around, 



10 


LIFE WAVES 


And I hear the soft echos of far away sounds. 

And the insect’s low hum, from bush and from tree, 
As it floats to my senses from over the lea. 

The frogs in the pond far over the way 
Are merrily trilling a shrill roundelay; 

The deepening shadows now gather around, 
Growing dimmer and dimmer the far away sounds, 
The birds here and there are fluttering to rest, 

The shadows have blotted the light from the west, 
With diamonds the dew has besprinkled the lea, 
And each quivering leaf of the Old Oak Tree. 


A GARDEN 

There’s a garden wondrous fair, 
Flowers I know are blooming there, 
Ragged Robins, Holly Hocks, 

Sweet Peas and Four-o’clocks. 
Marigold and Hardy Phlox, 

Roses, Pinks, Forget-me-nots, 
Morning-glories there entwine 
In this garden-spot of mine. 

Color blending there is seen, 

Blue and yellow, red and green, 
Pink and white and purple too, 
Sparkling with the morning dew- 
Humming-bird and butterfly 
Hovering o’er with watchful eye. 
Laden bees go buzzing by. 
Honey-dew the flowers supply. 
Subtile fragrance fills the air, 

And I love to linger there. 

For a living sacred shrine 
In this garden-spot of mine. 



LIFE WAVES 


11 


WHAT’S IN A NAME 


This world’s so constituted 
That you can’t get in the game, 
And you’ll soon be executed 
Unless you have a “name.” 

If you paint a pretty picture 
Fit for the “Hall of Fame,” 

They smile a “not accepted,” 
Because you have no “name.” 

Or if you write a poem, 

’Tis always just the same, 

You cannot get it printed 
Unless you have a “name.” 

You can't even have an idea 
Accepted by the mass, 

Because they do not know you 
As belonging to a “Class.” 

The picture must be dim and old 
Signed with an ancient name, 

The poems wild and flighty 
And of primeval fame. 

I have seen .some ancient pictures, 
I have read some ancient rhymes, 
And it is my honest verdict 
That they are “behind the times.” 

I suppose I am not cultured, 

And so I am to blame 
Because I can’t appreciate 
Or deify a “name.” 



12 


LIFE WAVES 


A BOUNTIFUL GUEST 


O, the rain, the welcome rain, 

Like a voice it comes to my window pane 
Telling of bursting buds and flowers, 
Making the brambles, fairy bowers. 

Each blade of grass to sparkle and gleam 
Like diamonds adorning some fairy queen. 

0 welcome the rain. 

Again we hear the song of the brook, 
Inviting the birds to take a look 
Into its mirror-like waters and trim 
Each delicate feather from soil and grime. 
It ripples, then glides, then dances along, 
But leaves behind its gay little song, 

O welcome the rain. 

Altho for a time it may darken the sun, 

It tells of pleasures yet to come, 

Of luscious fruit and ripening grain 
It brings within my window pane. 

From our hardening toil it brings us rest. 
0, do not despise such a bountiful guest, 

O welcome the rain. 

MEMORIES 

Thru my open window came 
From the church across the way, 

Voices singing sweet and clear 
A song unheard for many a day. 

Loud and clear the old song told 
Of a land “far, far away” 

“Where saints in glory stand” 

“Bright, bright as day.” 



LIFE WAVES 


13 


To my listening ear there came 
This old song I used to know, 

Words and melody, the same 
That I sang long years ago. 

In my heart old memories stirred 
By the sweet old melody, 

“Kept by a Father’s hand,” 

“Love cannot die.” 

And there stole thru all my senses 
Something from the far away, 

Subtile, undefined and holy, 

Like the rosy dawn of day. 

Like a shining spark in night-time 
Came the words from over there, 

“And bright above the sun,” 

“We shall reign forever there.” 

LOVE BELLS 

Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, hear the Love Bells ringing, 
They sweetly chime 
To the rhyme 

That forever ever in my heart is singing. 

When I hear thy tinkling music ringing 
Soft and low 
Then I know 

They to me my lover’s thoughts are bringing. 

Merry chimes forever keep thy music ringing 
For in thy motion 
My love’s devotion 

Shall ever, ever keep my heart a singing. 



14 


LIFE WAVES 


THE TOMOKA 

Sailing thru a fairy-land, 
Beauteous sights on every hand, 

And our light craft skims along 
Like the rythm of a song. 

Cool and dark the waters lie 
Underneath a sunny sky. 

Flickering forms beneath the deep, 
Silently their watches keep. 

Now and then an Osprey nigh 
Mounts toward the summer sky, 

In the topmost branch of tree, 
Resting high where all may see. 

Mossy nest so soft and warm, 
Solitary free from harm, 

Built away up next the sky 
Wherein secure the eaglets lie. 

Onward still we wind and wind 
’Mong the palms and oaks and vines. 
Closely scanning either shore 
For .surprises there in store. 

Patiently the saurian beast 
Sluggish from his daily feast. 

Quiet, resting on the bank 
’Mong the grasses tall and rank. 

Vultures pausing by the stream 
Tame as barn-yard fowls they seem, 



LIFE WAVES 


16 


For no sportsman ever dares 
Shoot the dark-winged scavengers. 

So on thru the tortuous stream, 
Turning, winding, black and green, 
Blending in a picture rare, 

Wierd, mysterious wondrous fair. 

0 Tomoka. nature’s child, 

Coursing thru the jungle wild, 
Reminder of the passing “brave,” 
Who rode upon thy tireless wave. 

Thou shall still flow on and on 
When admiring hosts are gone, 

Still thy beckoning mystic charm. 
Call to jungle wild, and tarn. 

Onward in thy winding way 
Never tiring night or day, 

Generous ever with thy store. 

Giving, giving evermore. 

Yielding with a bounteous hand- 
Food for beast and food for man, 
Goodbye, and may thy store increase, 
And may thy glory never cease. 







16 


LIFE WAVES 


THE WARNING 


When we see the ice a-melting' 

On the old frog-pond, 

When we listen in the morning 
For the robin’s cheery song, 

When the brook has burst its fetters 
Of frost and ice and snow, 

And goes rippling o’er the pebbles 
That are shining down below, 

When the frost in the meadow 
Has yielded to the sun, 

And the violets are peeping 
Forth one by one, 

When the sap from the maple 
Is trickling from the spile, 

And we run to get a straw 
From the old straw-pile, 

When the grass on the hillside 
Shows a brighter tint of green. 

And the trees by the brooklet 
With swelling buds are seen, 

When the grey sleeping orchard 
Awakes at nature’s call, 

And the deeper shadows gather 
Where now they lightly fall, 

Now the robin flings his challenge 
At the fleeing winter-king, 

And we know we’re at the portal 
Of the modest maiden “spring ” 



LIFE WAVES 


17 


THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE 
BROWN BIRD 

“Just a brown bird in a common old nest 
With a bunch of warm babies under my breast. 

All day long I must carry them food, 

You never did see such a hungry brood. 

It is grub, grub, grub from morning ’till night 
Their stomachs to fill, ’tis a mighty hard fight. 

P'or their growing hungrier every day, 

And never a ‘thank you’ I get for my pay. 

When I fly to the nest with a big fat worm 
You just ought to see them wriggle and squirm, 

And open their mouths ’till you’d think they would split, 
It rattles my brain ’till I lose my wit. 

And greedy Tom Brown gets the best of the game, 

The way that bird acts is a sin and a shame.” 

By the time the dark comes, I’m tired to death, 

I haven’t had time to draw a long breath— 

I wish I could live in a gilded cage, 

And to wait upon me a liveried page. 

With gilded perches and swing to match, 

And never an egg to hover and hatch. 

And nevermore to search for worms 

For a hungry brood that wriggles and squirms. 

I would like to have a coat of red, 

And a ‘merry widow’ to cover my head, 

And slippers white for my sprawling feet, 

And plenty of everything nice to eat- 
And I’d sit all day in my golden swing. 

And just do nothing but swing and swing. 

I’d have my voice like the yellow canary. 

And I’d sing and sing and never grow weary. 

And when at night I would tuck my head 
Up under my wing and go to bed, 



18 


LIFE WAVES 


And never be wakened out of my rest 

By a bunch of warm babies under my breast, 

Who wriggle around in the night and peep. 

But I’d sit in my swing and sleep and sleep—•” 

Then the little brown bird too weary to weep 
Just nodded her head and went to sleep. 

But now a bright sunbeam has opened her eye 
And she stretches her wings all ready to fly 
From the common old nest to search for food, 

As in the days past, for her hungry brood. 

When lo! her wings caught in the wire of gold: 

And as she gazed on the splendor untold— 

She knew the thing she had wished had come true, 
For there was the “page” all dressed in blue. 

The gilded perch, and the golden swing, 

Which she mounted, then opened her mouth to sing. 

In its native isle no yellow canary 

E’er gladdened the morn with a song so merry. 

As our little brown bird in her coat of red 
With a “merry widow” upon her head, 

And she sang and sang ’till her thoat was sore 
And she swung and swung forevermore, 

Of the sweet rich food she ate her fill 
’Till she dizzy grew and became quite ill 
Her toes were pinched in the slippers white 
And she longed to spread her wings in flight. 

But the door of her splendid cage was fast 
And she mused on the freedom forever past. 

She iooked into the mirror that hung on the wall 
And the sight that she saw did not please her at all, 
So she pulled off the cumberous coat of red, 

And the “merry widow” from off her head. 

The slippers flew from her sprawling feet, 

And the joy in her heart was quite complete. 

When stripped of her pride she shot thru the wire 



LIFE WAVES 


19 


And flew and flew, mounting higher and higher, 
Till she reached the old nest in the top of the tree. 
Where she knew were waiting brown birdies three- 
Just then she awoke with a blink of her eye 
And saw the sun mounting into the sky. 

And she flew out and in the live-long day 
Bringing food for the wee helpless birdies that lay 
In a common old nest in the top of a tree 
As fat as little brown birdies can be, 

And at night when she cuddled down into the nest. 
With that bunch of warm babies under her breast. 

A happier bird you never did ,see 

Than the little brown bird with her babies three. 


THE STRAY 

“Only a dog in the city street 
“Feared or shunned by all whom I meet, 
“Just a starved waif hunting a bone, 

“Just a lone dog without a home. 

“Roaming the city from end to end, 

“I’m just a stray dog without a friend, 
“Pitied by none and no one to love, 
“Sheltered by only the blue sky above. 

“Only a “brindle old cur” they say, 

“Good for naught but to block up the way, 
“So I skulk around for a place to hide 

“From the onward press of the human tide. 

“As I scan in fear, each human face, 

“No gleam of pity or love can I trace, 

“For I’m just a starved dog hunting a bone, 
“Just a lone “cur” without a home. 



20 


LIFE WAVES 


MY PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM 

A PICTURE OF MY FRIEND 

Is this, my friend! 

I touch it, ’tis but cold, 

No answering warmth comes back, 

To tell me I am overbold, 

See! the cheek so pale 
No blush mounts to its surface 
The lips are bloodless 
And tremble not at my approach, 

The eye turns not from 

Its fixed gaze to me 

Who longs with such intensity, 

I cannot take thee in my arms 
And kiss they cheek, 

Nor bring a smile to those cold lips 
Nor to the eye, forever fixed, 

Take it hence, ’tis but a trick 
To woo my disappointment. 

But stay, I’ll look again 
Upon the features fair. 

Mayhap beneath the beauteous mask, 
There lie some traces of my friend, 

I’ll undertake the task,— 

Beneath the printed lace I see 
Within thy breast a heart beats warm, 
The red blood flows and mounts 
To lip and cheek, 

And, mounting higher bring 
A sparkle to the eye, 

A love-light dear to me 
All this I see, 

This is my friend. 



LIFE WAVES 


21 


A PICTURE OF MY BABY 
Is this my baby? 

No, for if it were 'twould cling about my neck 
And press its cheek to mine, 

And laugh and coo as babies do, 

Ah, baby mine, baby mine. 

If this were he 

He'd jump and crow the live-long day 
A playing horse with me. 

Upon my lap he'd take his nap, 

Ah, baby mine, I long for thee. 

If this were he 

I'd tuck him in his little crib at night, 

And kiss his rosy cheek, 

And sing, “Lullaby, close thine eye.’’ 

Ah, baby mine, why do I weep. 

If this were he 

I would not tire, but lovo him more 
If that could be. 

It breaks my heart with thee to part, 

Ah, baby mine, come back to me. 

THE PICTURE OF MY MOTHER 

Ah, here’s another, 

'Tis the picture of my mother, 

When I look upon her face 
Many passing years I trace. 

Tho the artist’s done his part 
With his tools of modern art, 

Smoothing here and touching there, 
Softening down with patient care, 



22 


LIFE WAVES 


Still with loving eye I trace, 

Signs of care upon her face, 

Many signs of sorrow, too. 

Many also, brave and true. 

And I look beyond the years 
That’s been watered by her tears 
And behold her youthful grace, 

Love and hope shines in her face. 

How she loved me, clothed me, fed me. 
Thru the ills of life she led me. 
Satisfied my every need 
While her own she did not heed. 
Gently chiding, firm but mild 
With her wayward, thoughtless child. 
Of life’s ills she’s born her share 
Still I see love shining there. 

Shining there for you and me, 
Mother-love can’t die, you see. 
Mother-love is God’s own love. 

Shining down from up above. 

As it falls upon her face 
Of withering time I see no trace. 
Gloried are the marks of time 
By a crown of love sublime. 




LIFE WAVES 


23 


OLD FRIEND 

To E. M. H. 

Just looking backward o’er the time 
Since we first met 

To those old times! I never shall forget, 

And we’ve been true 
The long way thru, 

For us loves shining star has never set. 

To us the world was open wide 

Our days were filled with youthful pride 
Our spirits glowed 
And overflowed 

Into the future’s brimming tide. 

Would we recall and live them o’er 

Again, those wonder days of yore! 

The glad days 
The sad days 

That now are gone forevermore? 

Ah no! for memory an artist rare 

Has caught the best and held it there. 

The shining rays 
Of bygone days 

And painted us a picture fair 

But we have known since that glad day 

Life has its work as well as play 
Both come and go, 

But this we know 

That friendship true shall last alway. 

Your constancy has brightened many an hour 



24 


LIFE WAVES 


And cast its radiance from afar, 

Brought many a smile 
Made life worth while 
And strewed the way with many a flower. 

Old friend, the lengthening years have set 
Their passing marks upon us, yet 
We ponder o’er 
The days of yore, 

And know we never shall forget . 


THE BLUETTE 


Dear little bird with coat of blue, 

Without a mother, 

To hide or hover. 

Little lost bird, I will “mother” you, 

I will search for the food you like the best, 

To supply the need 
Of your growing greed, 

And build you a downy nest. 

Ah, little Bluette, with eye gleaming bright 
Ah, fluttering waif, 

Unheedingly safe 

In your snug little bed I must leave you. 

Good night 

Just a dead bird I find in the nest, 

Closed the bright eye, 

All motionless lie 

The fluttering wing and the heart in the breast. 

Ah, little Bluette, return to the sod. 

Motherless bird, 

Lone little bird, 

Thy freed little life has returned unto God. 




LIFE WAVES 


25 


THE FIVE SENSES 

(View No. 1) 

I hear the wind a howling*, 

I hear the thunder rolling, 

I hear the cats a growling, 

I hear a bell a tolling. 

I see the weeds are growing, 

I see the roads need scraping, 

I see the grass needs mowing, 
From work there’s no escaping. 

I smell the bad surrounding 
Of backyard odors pending. 

I smell decay abounding 
0, it is just heart-rending. 

My taste, I think is failing, 

My food I’m not enjoying, 

My liver must be ailing, 

I’m sure it is annoying. 

I feel the house needs cleaning, 

I feel the clothes need mending, 

I feel that storms are nearing, 

I feel the clouds descending. 

I feel that I am longing 
For the things I am not getting. 
And my senses are prolonging 
The misery of regretting. 

(View No. 2) 

I hear the robins singing, 

I hear the cocks a crowing. 



16 


LIFE WAVES 


I hear the cow-bells ringing, 

I hear the reapers mowing. 

I see the buds a bursting, 

I see the grass a growing, 

I see the bees a thirsting, 

The hen a hovering. 

I smell sweet scents arising, 

I smell the flow of spring, 

I smell the breath of lilies, 

The earth is flowering. 

I taste the sap a flowing, 

I taste the bees’ hiving, 

I taste the green things growing, 
All nature is reviving. 

I feel the soft breeze blowing, 

I feel the sun a shining, 

I feel the things a growing, 

My senses all entwining. 


TWO PHASES OF LIFE 

Born, eat, sleep, squeal and grow 
Wrangle, scramble, reap ard sow, 

Work and struggle, steal, cheat and lie, 
Grow old, suffer, gasp and die. 

Born, eat, sleep, laugh and grow 
Love and labor here below. 

Bless, encourage, cheer and give, 

Age is coming, but we live. 



LIFE WAVES 


27 


THE OLD-FASHIONED MAN 

Abraham Lincoln, “the honest man," 

Unheralded by bard or tome, 

Was the son of old-fashioned parents, 

And born in an old-fashioned nome. 

And then he grew up on the old-fashioned plan, 
Into an old-fashioned boy, 

And soon he grew into an old-fashioned man, 

With nary an ounce of alloy. 

With his old-fasioned hands he worked with a will, 
And never ashamed was he, 

For he was the grist in the old-fashioned mill, 
Which turned him out honest and free. 

In his old-fashioned way he would hammer a nail, 
With a plow make a “fine home-run," 

He would cut down a tree, split it up into rails, 

In exchange for a suit of “home-spun.'’ 

In his old-fashioned way, many a “yarn he spun," 
Without ever “cracking" a smile, 

For this serious man loved a little fun, 

His weary hours to beguile. 

He came to be known thru the whole country side, 
By the name of “Honest Abe," 

And an honest store he tried to run, 

But somehow it never paid. 

When challenged by “bullies" he made nich a fight, 
In a good old-fashioned way, 



28 


LIFE WAVES 


They never came back, they were beaten outright. 
And fled in surprise and dismay. 

With heart tender and true, yet sturdy and strong, 
And staunch, in his old-fashioned way 
He stood for the right, but “sat-down” on the wrong 
And never was known to delay. 

In his old-fashioned way, he climbed to a “place,” 
(Minus bribery and tricks.) 

And earned a seat in political race, 

In eighteen hundred and forty-six. 

And later he climbed to the top-most “shelf,” 

And ruled as an honest man,” 

He had no craving for power for himself, 

But sought out the good of our land. 

In his old-fashioned way, he crept into the hearts 
Of his fellow countrymen, 

From the highest ranks, from the busiest marts. 
To the lowliest children of men. 

And we’ll always believe in this old-fashioned man, 
Who ne’er a kind act was above. 

And we’d do well to follow his old-fashioned plan,. 
Of faithfulness, duty and love. 

L’ VOI 

Love makes labor worth pursuing 
Idleness is our undoing, 

Death is life, if we but knew it. 

Life is death, as some pursue it. 




LIFE WAVES 


29 


NOBLEMEN 

Who are our noble men, 

He who wears the livery of his clan, 

Who struts and boasts and says, 

I am the man? 

Is he a nobleman 

He whose hands are useless, 

And soft-palmed 
Nor ever with his brain 
Has formed a plan? 

Is he a nobleman 
He whose ego fancies self, 

Of noble birth 

And ,so to be thereby 

Of gentler, nobler worth? 

Is he a nobleman 

Who never seeks to do a noble deed, 

And who ignores the strenuous 
Calls of human need? 

Is he a nobleman 

Who wastes his energies in doubtful mirth 
And smirks and says, 

I am a nobleman “by birth’'? 

Is he a nobleman 

Who relating his debauches 

Pollutes the air and p’ace 

Then dares to look a decent human in the face? 
And is a nobleman a being idle, 

Useless, shameless, sordid vain? 

’Twere better then, if in the embryo he remain. 



30 


LIFE WAVES 


BEAUTY EVERYWHERE 

There is beauty in the forest, 

In the shrub and rolling lea, 

In the placid flowing river, 

In the swelling of the sea. 

There is beauty in the mountain, 
There is beauty in a hill, 

In a gushing, sparkling fountain, 

In a tiny, tinkling rill. 

There is beauty in the summer 
Full of live and growing things, 
Balmy days and gentle breezes, 
Filled with gay and fluttering wings. 

There is beauty in the winter, 

Snowy crystals floating down, 

Petals of the .shining frost-flowers, 
Jewels fit for kingly crown. 

Down beneath earth’s crusty surface 
There are hidden jewels rare, 

’Neath the waters of the ocean, 
Beauteous forms are hiding there. 

Be it meadow, hill or mountain, 

Be it river or the sea, 

Be it rill or sparkling fountain, 
Hidden beauties there we see. 

All around, beneath above us, 

’Tis a world most wondrous fair 
From the least unto the greatest, 
There is beauty everywhere. 





LIFE WAVES 


31 


WHEN THE CORN IS IN THE MILK 

0 come with me where the sweet corn grows 
With its satin stalk in the long straight rows, 

And each one crowned with a nodding tassel, 

While its lance-like leaves in the sofe breeze rustle. 
We will pluck the ears from the stalwart stems, 

For beneath the sheath there are rows of “gems," 

The pearly gems are juicy and sweet, 

Not made to be worn, but for us to eat. 

We’ll remove the husk and each thread of silk, 

For the kernels are plump and full of milk, 

When they come to the table all steaming hot, 

With plenty of butter they touch the right spot. 

Then come with me where the sweet corn grows 
And we’ll pluck the ears from the shining rows. 

This luscious fare we may have without wealth, 

We may eat our fill and no harm to the health. 

So give me the ear shorn of husk and of silk 
Steaming hot on the table when the corn’s in the milk. 


1917 

Good-bye, Old Year. 

Thou hast given birth 
To many a smile 
And many a tear 
To cruel deeds, and brave, 

’Hast dug full many a grave, 

’Hast builded up and torn asunder, 

'Hast set the whole wide-world awonder. 
Why did’st thou not some pity take, 

And give this world a mighty shake, 
That from her sleep she might awake, 



32 


LIFE WAVES 


To see and right her big mistake? 

Then had’st thou been a proud Old Year. 
To leave behind such happy cheer 
Instead of war-clouds, black and drear, 
But now we say, “Good bye Old Year,” 
With weary hearts, with tearful eye, 

We give to thee our last good-bye, 

And hoping that the New Year brings, 

A peace to all on its white wings. 

THE WORKING MAN 

Who sows the seed and reaps the grain 
On hill-top, valley, level plain? 

The working man. 

Who grinds our grain to make our bread, 
That every nation may be fed ? 

The working man. 

Who labors on thru sun and shade 
To ’tend with care each tender blade? 

The working man. 

Who lives in caverns black as night 
That we may have both heat and light? 
The working man. 

Who piles the brick and mortar, high, 

Till dome and spire near meet the sky ? 
The working man. 

The riches of the loom are ours 
Gained by the toil of weary hours 
Of working men. 

Who bears the burden of the day 
Nor dares to shirk the part they play? 
Our working men 



LIFE WAVES 


33 


THE MAYFLOWER 

In Memory 

They came, they're gone, all honor be 
To those who braved the rolling sea. 

Who left behind a princely dower, 

We’ll ne’er forget thee, brave Mayflower. 
The days are passing, one by one. 

Three hundred years have come and gone 
Since our fore-fathers sought the shore, 
And braved its dangers, scanty store. 

To make a home far o’er the sea 
And left it here for you and me. 

Oh, may our land be ever true 
To freedom’s flag, Red, White and Blue. 

GOOD ADVERTISING 

“I am going to start into business,” 

Said John to his wife, said he— 

“And I’ll treat the people so fairly 

That they’ll all want to trade with me.” 

“And then when I get them a cornin’,” 

Said John to his wife, said he— 

“I’ll just keep on in the same fair way 
So they’ll all want to stay with me.” 

“I’ll do some advertisin’ ” 

Said John to his wife, said he— 

“And I’ll practice it over the counter 
When they come to trade with me.” 

“And when I am tradin’ with people,” 

Said John to his wife, said he—• 








34 


LIFE WAVES 


“I’ll sometimes give 'em the half cent, 
Tho custom may say it’s for me.” 

“My measure I never will scrimp,” 

Said John to his wife, said he— 

“And if but a trifle I add to the weight 
’Tis a good advertisement for me.” 

“I’m not going to be so tarnation small,” 
Said John to his wife, said he— 

“And if I give a few pennies away 
They’ll always come back to me.” 


“GIVE THE DEVIL HIS DUE” 

If you’re talkin’ to a fellar 
And he don’t think just like you, 

No doubt he has his reasons, 

So “Give the devil his due.” 

If you see another fellar 
Doin’ what you should do 
Don’t say he’s “doin’ it for show,” 

But “give the devil his due.” 

Don’t say he’s ignorant or lazy 
If he does things different from you, 

And plods along in his own way, 

But “give the devil his due.” 

Just remember there’s no two fellars alike. 
So they don’t all work like you. 

But they may be doin’ as good a job, 

So “give the devil his due.” 



LIFE WAVES 


35 


MV CREED 

The naked to clothe, the hungry to feed, 

A pitying love for those who have need. 

A “lending-a-hand” to those in distress, 

A constant desire to cheer and to bless. 

To answer the prayer uplifted to God, 

By the wretched and lonely, now “under the rod/' 

Of the ignorant mass in its pitiful fight, 

Who are struggling to rise thru the darkness of night. 

God is our Father, not demon nor devil, 

For what we believe in we live on that level. 

No murderer is he, nor a pestilent fiend 
Scattering death and disease among his redeemed- 

God is Love, Light and Truth and doeth no evil, 

We have risen above the religion primeval, 

In the distance approaches the flickering light, 

And its bright rays are flooding the realm of night. 

HOPE 

0, weary traveler with thy halting step, and slow, 
Hope on, live on, and never let the old world know 
Thy heart is breaking for the thing yet unattained, 
But press thou on, the thing desired may yet be gained. 
Who knows but it may be but just beyond thy sight, 
And so by treading on a little further in thy might, 
Thy weary feet may touch the goal at last, 

And then forget the long and weary past. , 

O, blessed Hope! Thou art a light-house on the shore 
To guide our tossing barque the rough waves o’er. 
Thou art the buoy that keeps afloat the sinking craft, 









36 


LIFE WAVES 


Thou art the cords that bind the floating raft. 
0 Hope! I only ask that ever by my side, 
Thou may’st walk with me and there abide, 

And may thy presence brightly gleam 
To guide me o’er the narrowing stream. 

And now dear Hope, a friend thou art, 

A friend from whom we would not part. 

Thru life, in death be ever near 
To catch and change the falling tear 
Into a sunbeam bright and clear. 

O glorious Hope, thou art divine, 

O may thy radiance ever shine, 

On our poor weak humanity, 

With all our sins and vanity, 

For if thou vanish, heart beware! 

There’s nothing left us but despair. 

If in the evening thou hast flown 
We’ll find thee in the morning’s dawn, 

Thrice blessed Hope, abide with me 
As long as I have need of thee. 

GRUMBLERS 

They grumble and grumble and grumble; 
They grumble the live long day, 

And .still far into the evening 
They are still a-grumbling away. 

And when they get up in the morning 
There’s nothing quite right, it seems, 

And so you often wonder 

If they grumble all night in their dreams 

O, it makes you awful tired 
And it drags you down like a stone, 

'TiT you wish that every grumbler 
Had a grumblers den of his own. 



LIFE WAVES 


37 


THE SEASONS 

SPRING 

When from mother earth there springs 
Tender blade and leaf and flower 
Nourished by the gentle shower, 

Returning birds th dr matins sing, 

Each busy with its tiny nest, 

Choosing the .spot he loves the best. 

In tree-top, by mountain Spring. 

Each tender thought calls forth a trill, 

Of wild delight: he picks at will 
A twig or straw and mounting flies 
Gaily homeward with his prize. 

When blossoms show their faces fair, 

And fling their fragrance on the air, 

Which air-waves to our senses bring, 

And whisper gently, “this is Spring.” 
Dainty maid, we hail thy coming, 

Thou dost start the life-blood running. 

SUMMER 

When spring into the summer glides 
And casts her blossom-mantle on the earth, 
A challenge to fair Summer’s mirth, 

Who sits a queen, whose royal birth 
Defies the fair maids gentle rule, 

To introduce a modern school. 

So fruitage takes the place of flower, 

And leafage forms a pleasant bower, 

And in the nest, built in the spring, 

New forms of life are hovering. 

The trees grown dusty by the road, 

Are bending with their lusty load. 

The squirrels with frisky leaping stride, 




38 


LIFE WAVES 


Are hunting for the nuts they hide. 

The blue-jay anxious for its young, 

Caws its warning to each one. 

Long, warm and gracious is each day, 

The “queen proclaims “ ’tis Summer’s way” 
Gracious queen, with joy we greet thee, 
And may chill nor frost defeat thee, 
Changing what dear spring begun, 

Into bread for every one- 

AUTUMN 

Born of Summer, Prince thou art, 

Truly thou hast done thy part, 

Giving with a princely hand 
What thy subjects shall command, 

Lavishly throughout the land, 

Ah, we love thy pleasant ways, 

Bringing to us balmy days, 

Golden leaf and scarlet runner 
Wave a last “good-bye” to Summer. 

Golden pumpkins by the score, 

Heaped within thy open door, 

And no need to stay the hand 
When there’s plenty in the land. 

Nuts and apples, corn and wheat, 

Fill the bins so smelly sweet, 

Rich in blessing, crowned thou art, 

Prince of seasons, loved thou art. 

WINTER 

Old King Winter comes at last 
With his snow and chilly blast, 

Did you say a gruff old fellow, 

Turning all things brown and yellow. 
Nipping with his frosty breath 



LIFE WAVES 39 


What remains of Autumn’s wealth; 

Now the snow-drift high he piles, 

How he winks his eye and smiles 
At cold fingers, toes and noses, 

Gaily paints our cheeks with roses, 

Now the merry sleigh-bells ring, 

A welcome to the jolly “king.” 

Smiling when the fire beams bright, 
Basking in the rosy light, 

As we sit before the fire. 

While the flame leaps higher and higher, 
It is time when hearts are lightest, 

To youth this season is the brightest, 
But subdued at last must be, 

“Winter’s” white festivity, 

And we see him scampering, 

At the first approach of “spring.” 


MORNING 

A pale glow of dawn far over the sea, 

Arising like mist from a fell, 

The world quietly rests; only save now and then. 

A twittering note from some bird in the dell. 

The hush of the morning has spread o’er the earth* 
A peaceful and .subtile repose, 

And the light in the east changes into 
The delicate pink of a rose. 

A breeze as light as a zephyr. 

Stirs a ripple of life o’er the lea, 

And the world has awaked from its slumber, 

And “Morning” has stepped from the sea. 





40 


LIFE WAVES 


OLD OCEAN 

There’s a charm about the ocean, 

With its restless, rolling tide, 

And it clutches at the heart-strings, 

With its wonder deep and wide. 

There’s a grandeur in the ocean, 
Swelling, swelling, yet retaining, 
Equilibrium and motion 
Nature’s wonder-laws maintaining. 

There’s a mystery in the ocean, 

In its calm and soothing sound, 

And inspiring deep devotion, 

In its silences profound. 

There’s a force about the ocean, 

That would spread its waters o’er, 

Every city, town and hamlet 
Built along its sandy shore. 

Moody, deep, relentless ocean! 

When thy depths are stirred by weather, 
Tossing on thy turbid bosom, 

Precious lives and junk together. 

Never heeding in thy speeding, 

Human cry nor human prayer, 

In thy waters lie destruction, 

Still thou never hast a care. 

Down beneath thy rippling waters, 

Thou dost cover fathoms deep 
They who trusted to thy keeping, 

Thou hast rocked them fast asleep. 





LIFE WAVES 


41 


When upon thy restless bosom 
Still we trust thee, and adore, 

And forget thy changeful nature, 

As we sail from shore to shore. 

Calm and peaceful thou do3t lie, 
Rocking in thy ocean bed, 

With a quiet gentle motion, 

While the sun .shines overhead. 

Yes, we love thy sparkling wavelets, 
And thy white-caps mountain high, 
And when we’re no longer near thee, 
For thy magic spell we sigh. 















42 


LIFE WAVES 


DISAPPOINTMENT 

’Tisn’t what I thought ’twas; whatT 
Why this old world. 

I thought ’twas made of flowers 
And birds and song, 

Sunshine and cosy bowers! 

I wonder what’s gone wrong! 

I thought ’twas made of music, 

And love and all such things, 

That all the people needed, 

Was a pair of golden wings. 

To make them into angels 
With a harp of golden strings, 

0! I’m awful disappointed 
At the horrid things I see. 

And the awful things that happen 
That I never thought could be. 

How people shoot each other, 

And think it “something grand,” 

Tho the Bible says you mustn’t 
I do not understand! 

I’m so sorry for the orphans, 

Who go hungry all the time, 
Because their daddies left them 
To go fighting down the line, 

I’m so sorry for the cripples, 
They’ll never be the same. 

But just go staggering along, 

War is a horrid game! 

I thot that all good Christians, 
Loved each one as himself, 

And kept the Golden Rule, 

And sometimes forgot himself, 

But then I hear that people change 




LIFE WAVES 


43 


Because they get more wise, 

And while I am still but a “kid” 

I now think “otherwise.” 

WRITTEN FOR EDITH 

O daughters of this Republic, 

Where have your senses flown, 

To flutter forth in cold and snow, 

Without your sweaters on? 

You’ve lain aside warm underwear, 

To look more slim and neat, 

Your hose are but a cobweb, 

To air your chilly feet. 

And when you’re asked if “you’re not cold,” 
“0, no indeed,” you say, 

And just go on and shiver 
Throughout the coldest day. 

You wear your heels so high, my dears, 

You walk upon your toes, 

And then you wonder how and why 
You have so many woes. 

You rustle forth in mud and rain, 

Without your rubbers, too. 

And freeze your little toes because, 

“Dame P’ashion” tells you to. 

Now come, dear girls, be sensible, 

Defy “Dame Fashion’s” rules, 

And gather up the “castaways” 

And prove yourselves no fools. 









44 


LIFE WAVES 


SERMON FROM NATURE 


The smell of a lilac means more to me, 
Than all the sermons of men, 

And the happy song of the tiniest bird, 
Then the .songs which flow from the pen. 

The scent of a rose is sweeter to me 
Than the censer’s subtile perfume, 

More fruitful the bees and the blossoms 
Than the cloisters sorrowful gloom. 

The beauty that clothes the lily 
Is fairer than priestly gown, 

And nature’s benediction 
Falls silently, gently down. 

In every leaf and petal, 

In every flower that blows, 

In every note of a song-bird, 

In everything that grows. 

There’s a sermon of infinite beauty 
We may feel, and hear, and see, 

And it makes this old world brighter. 
And is good enough for me- 


NIGHT 

When the last glow of daylight, 
Has faded from the west, 

And the last of all the birdies, 
Is snugly tucked into its nest. 
When the horse within its stall, 




LIFE WAVES 


45 


Is dozing o’er his hay, 

And every frisky lambkin, 

Is resting from his play, 

When the gentle moo-cow, 

Has yielded up her store, 

And from the litt e piggies, 

There comes a peaceful snore. 

When the stars are peeping at you, 

Thru the curtained misty light, 

And bats and moths and beetles, 

Are the only things in sight, 

When you hear the crickets chirping, 

And the screech-owl’s mournful cry, 

And the froggies loudly trilling, 

And the “skeeters” buzzing n'gh- 
When your head is gently nodding, 

And your eyes are growing dim, 

And no longer see the letters, 

In that good old-fashioned hymn, 

Then you know the shades have lowered 
Gently o’er the setting sun 
And you know the day has ended, 

And you know that ‘‘Night’’ has come. 

IF I WERE A ROBIN 


I never would build 
My nest in an apple tree, 

But away up high in an evergreen 
Where no one could ever see 
My little grey nest, 

Nor my little eggs blue, 

Nor steal them away from me. 





46 


LIFE WAVES 


A DREAM 

Far from the place where I was bom, 

Far from the trees and the waving corn, 

The long-furrowed rows in the field by the stream, 
How often I see them again in a dream. 

I’m hunting for shell-barks shaken down by a breeze. 
Half afraid of dark shadows cast round by the trees, 
My apron is full, and I happy, as when 
A barefooted lad I went hunting with Ben, 

To eat them I wish and I look to r a stone, 

To crack the thin shells as in time long agone, 

I sit myself down on a tree where it fell, 

But instead of a kernel I found but a shell, 
Disappointed and hungry I awake from my dream, 

As often we do in life’s waking dream, 

How we wish for the kernel we never have found, 
Instead of the husks scattered over the ground. 

MADAM REDBREAST 

Sir Robin and madam went out on a quest, 

To find them a place to build them a nest. 

As they flew in and out of the branches near by, 

A comfortable nook caught madam’s bright eye, 

Why! This is the nicest place for a nest, 

Said Madam Robin to Sir Robin Redbreast, 

See, this crooked limb of the old apple tree, 

I believe it grew that way on purpose for me, 

So she flitted about this busy wise dame, 

And went right to work and “grub-staked” her “claim,” 
None ever worked harder to build her a nest, 

Than this shy little, spry little Madam Redbreast, 

She brought the soft grasses to line it inside, 

Then .she’d pat and caress it, this tiny spring bride; 



LIFE WAVES 


47 


As she looked into the nest one morning in May, 

Now what do you think on the bottom there lay? 

Three little blue eggs, as blue as the sky, 

Then she smiled to herself and winked her bright eye, 
And said, “What dear little eggs, 0, My!” 

One day as she hovered the little eggs blue, 

Something moved under her breast warm and true, 

Then the warm little heart gave a warm little flutter, 
And thought little warm words which ,she never could utter 
But the words she would say 
I know they were these— 

“They're the dearest wee birds, 

For they're mine, if you please.” 


THE PROMISE 

0, give me your hand 
Little girl, little girl, 

0, give me your heart, 

Little Girl. 

And I will be true 
To you, to you, 

And keep them safe 

Little girl. 

I gave you my hand, 

Billy boy, Billy boy, 

I gave you my heart 
Billy boy. 

But my hand you have spurned. 
And my heart returned 
All trampled and crushed 
Billy boy. 





48 


LIFE WAVES 


THE GOSSIP 

0, how can a gossip be glad 
As she relates her budget of woe, 

And scoffs at the trials of others, 

Whose temptations she never may know. 

They pour into your mind all their grouches, 

In which they seem to delight, 

They make of your mind a dump-heap, 

Until you are ready to fight. 

They’ll come in the morning and talk until noon, 

And rehearse all the gossip they know, 

They tire you to death, you can’t draw a long breath, 
’Till they rise and say they must go. 

They’ll talk of their neighbors and friends, 

As well as their enemies too, 

And you never can tell when they’re gone, 

What they’re going to say about you. 


WHEN THE HEART IS YOUNG 

When the heart is young, 

What matter if the hair turns grey, 

Or the eye grows dim, 

As the years pass away, 

What matter if the form be bent, 

What matter if the strength be spent, 
That footsteps lag, or memory fail, 

What matter that our youth has flown, 
Our love-songs all been sung, 

Life’s joys are not all ended, 

When the heart is young. 




LIFE WAVES 


49 


OUR FATHERS 

There’s a song that’s been singing itself in my heart 
In silence for many a day, 

And now to be free it knocks at the door. 

And in silence I open the way. 

Of mothers the bards have been singing, 

Her praises the poets have penned, 

Far and wide her glory is ringing, 

And these poets and bards were men. 

So this my song of the fathers shall be 
By one of the mothers of men, 

A song it shall be of true chivalry, 

As it flows from the point of my pen. 

Who toils and toils from sun to sun 
In field and shop and mine? 

Who saves and saves the hard-earned sum, 

For rest has little time? 

Who sweats and sweats in furnace heat? 

And weary all the day, 

Who tramps and tramps his thankless beat, 
Throughout the city’s way? 

Who plows the field and sows the grain, 

By stifling heat is bowed, 

And trudges patiently along, 

To feed the hungry crowd? 

Invented mowers, reapers, 

To assist the working man, 

Machines to sew, and sweepers 
To relieve mi-lady’s hand? 








50 


LIFE WAVES 


Who gathers cotton, wool and flax, 

And weaves them into cloth, 

• Who first found out that silk could wax 
From that lowly thing, a moth? 

In music there is power, 

The muses long have sung, 

Who makes the instrument from which 
This music may be wrung? 

Who caught the lightning in his hand, 
And held it there for use, 

Who sends it broadcast o’er our land, 
And holds against abuse? 

Who taught the ship to ride the sea, 
Who made the diving-bell, 

The ‘‘iron-horse” to skim the lea, 

Up hill, and down as well? 

Who levels mountains, digs and delves 
To make the valleys meet, 

Who builds our cities towering high 
Above a well paved street ? 

Who fought our country’s battles, 

Face to face with deadly foe, 

Who won by scars and bloodshed, 

Saved our country from her woe? 

Who gets up in early morning, 

When the frost is on the pane, 

And who sets the kettle boiling, 

Though he may be old, or lame ? 

Who brings in wood and water 



LIFE WAVES 


51 


When there comes a frosty snap, 

While mother sits so cozy and warm 
By the fire and takes a nap? 

But I might go on forever, 

And I could not tell the half 
Of all the good the fathers 
Have done in our behalf. 

So, the ,song that’s been asinging 
In my heart for many a day, 

With its homey music ringing, 

Rises now and floats away. 

Spreading out throug*h all the earth-world, 
And with justice meted slow, 

That belong to our good fathers, 

Living now and long ago. 

Side by side in song and story, 

Mother, father hence shall go 
Hand in hand with equal glory, 

Ever linked by love or woe. 


THE CHICKADEE 


There flew to my kitchen 
One morning in spring, 

A dear little bird, 

But so swift on the wing, 

He rushed through the doorway 
Nor thinking at all, 

Till he came with a thud 
Against the hard wall, 




52 


LIFE WAVES 


Then the light from a window 
Attracted his eye, 

And swiftly he darted 
Toward the blue sky, 

But poor little prisoner. 

Not knowing, alas, 

The sash was ’twixt him 
And the growing green grass; 
He fell to the floor with 
A sickening crash, 

Alas! little bird, why 
Wast thou so rash? 

He lay on his back 

With his little toes curled, 

And I thought, “there’s one little 
Song less in the world,” 

So I lifted him up from 
The floor where he lay, 

And he opened his eyes 
As much as to say, 

“Of all the queer things 
That e’er happened to me 
This beats them “all hollow.” 

I’m as weak as can be,” 

Then his scared little eyes 
Went blinkety-blink, 

And his scared little heart 
Went clinkety-clink, 

I opened my hand, 

He flew into a tree, 

And looked saucily back, 

Singing, Chickadee-dee-dee. 



LIFE WAVES 


53 


SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN 

“Ah, little bird why do you fly 

At my approach, and seem so shy? 

Your tiniest feather I would not rulf 

With a careless hand you know well enough. 

“When the weather is hot and dries up the dew, 

I put out a dish of water for you, 

And when the snow flies and the worm burrows deep 
I throw out some crumbs of which you may eat. 

“And now little bird why are you so shy, 

So quickly alarmed and ready to fly, 

Fly into my hand and then you shall see 
How gently I’ll hold you, how careful I’ll be.” 

“Ah, no, little girl, since the world began 
We have learned to fear the hand of man, 

Who trap us and shoot us, ever hunting with gun, 
To “bag” us and ,stew us, and think it is fun.” 

I said to a squirrel far up in a tree, 

“Why scamper away from a girl like me? 

You remember the nut that I gave you one day, 

How you snatched it up, then hustled away? 

“And ran up a tree, clear up to the top, 

And away from me before you would stop, 

I wanted to stroke you and pet you and love you, 
But all my kind words had no power to move you” 

“Don’t you know little girl, man thinks us a pest, 
And hunts us and kills us and thinks it a jest, 

And feels it an honor, and brags o’er his catch, 
For cowardly sport, man hasn’t his match.” 













54 


LIFE WAVES 


THE TABLE SET FOR ONE 

In looking back o’er the long, long ago 
Those dear little forms you recall, 

How happy each face 
As he found his place 
At the table set for all. 

And the days passed by, till each in his turn 
Passed away from the old home, dear, 

And the empty walls 

No echo recalls 

Of voices you loved to hear. 

You long for the forms and the voices dear 
But those forms you cannot recall, 

They are now of the past, 

But your memory holds fast 
When the table was set for all. 

What do you do with each long weary day, 
And again when the day is done, 

And the evening falls 

O’er the silent walls 

Where the table is set for one? 

Just try to be helpful and cheery and bright 
For the way may not be long, 

And scatter some flowers 

Thru the fleeting hours 

While you’re plodding the way along. 

For the world wags on thru sorrow and song 
Just the same for you and for me. 

We must take what we get 

And try not to fret 

Over sorrows, which all must see. 



LIFE WAVES 


55 


AFTER FORTY YEARS 

If you ever think the old times 
Will come floating back again, 

When you visit the old homestead, 
Where for years you haven’t been, 

If you think to find the old friends, 

All as glad as you will be. 

Take a little trip and try it 
For yourself, you soon shall see. 

Make the trip? No, go not near it, 

For the memories now you keep 
Sacred of your youth and childhood, 
Will be crushed, and make you weep, 
Faces once you knew and cherished, 

Now are sleeping, ’neath the mold, 

And your long fond hope has perished; 
No more their hand in yours you’ll hold, 
Woodlands once you loved and played in 
Now by the woodman’s axe laid low; 
Growing grain and field of clover 
Fills the place you used to know, 

Where are now the stately nut trees 
In the meadows, by the streams? 

Once you gathered their rich harvest, 
Now they live but in your dreams. 

The old school-house near the water? 
The old foot-log o’er the span? 

Nothing left to tell the story 
Of the days your youth began, 

Old log-house upon the farm, there, 
Given place to modern frame, 

All is strange, and changed, and lonely, 
Nothing now remains the same. 

Thus vanish your old friends of youth, 








66 


LIFE WAVES 


And live but in your memory now, 

The place you knew where you were born 
Belongs to others: pay your vow 
And let the dead past rest in peace, 
Disturb it with thy presence not, 

Its charms are dead for you they cease, 
Then friends forbear the sacred spot, 

It is a grave wherein you'll find 
Thy dearest youthful memories rest, 

But dig them up and they become 
As fleeting as a bit of dust, 

Then go no more your child-hood ways, 
For you are now a child no more, 

Friends may forget of other days, 

Nor love the same they did of yore, 

Your memory holds a childish love, 
Forever hold that memory dear, 

Your soul will see as it saw then, 
Debauch it not, ’twill fly in fear, 

Just go thy way and thinking not 
Old age will flee and be forgot. 

When you behold the much loved spot, 
What others feel shall be your lot. 

But hold thy precious memories well, 

In them your youth shall you renew, 

And be content with them to dwell, 

For memory friends are ever true. 





LIFE WAVES 


57 


WHAT’S THE USE 

I’ll not complain, for what’s the us© 
If life with me has played the deuce, 
And shattered all the golden dreams 
I dreamed so proudly in my teens, 

This world a palace was to me 
And every room I longed to see, 

And every door stood open wide 
To give me choice, and there abide, 

If in my youth and haste I chose 
To enter in the door to close 
No more to open unto me 
No more forever to be free, 

I’d like to ask a question plain, 

Is any one but me to blame? 

If in my indolence I chose 
Indulgence in a soft repose 
And slumber came and blotted out 
The duties I should been about. 

Now who’s to blame for this abuse 
I’ll not complain, for what’s the use. 
If in my eagerness for pleasure 
I looted every hidden treasure 
Till life my jailer, prisoner I, 

My clipped wing useless, so I lie. 

If life with me has played the deuce, 

I’ll not complain, for what’s the use? 

NOON 

The “King of Day” has risen, 

And donned his garments of gold, 

And rides to his throne at the zenith, 
’Neath his blue-domed place to hold. 













58 


LIFE WAVES 


His kingly watch o’er the birds and the bees, 
And the opening buds and flowers, 

And to shower his richest treasure 
On this wonderful world of ours. 

He sits a monarch staunch and true, 

And hands out his hoarded gold, 

For his treasure is free to every one, 

And can neither be bought nor sold. 

CASTE 


Said Mrs. A. to Mrs. B. 

“I live in ‘Top-Notch’ Row, 

I’d like to have you call on me, 

I’ve just ‘arrived,’ you know.” 

“I’m sure I will,” said Mrs. B. 
Without demur or dally, 

“And then I hope you’ll call on me, 

I live at ‘10 Dutch Alley.’ ” 

But Mrs. A. looked down her nose, 

So very shocked was she 

Then, O, she said and thought within, 

“Plebian, Ah, I see.” 

Said Mrs. A. to Mrs. C. 

“I’d like to entertain, 

But I am in a quandary, 

Just wait and I’ll explain. 

“You know I live in Top-Notch Row, 
And just arrived, you see, 

So give me all the names of those 
Who have a pedigree.” 




LIFE WAVES 


59 


MOTHER DREAMS 

There’s Jimmy: A lawyer I’ll make of my Jim. 
For he is so bright and possesses the vim 
For getting ahead, and stands first in his class, 
Then finally he 
Elected will be 

To Congress before very many j ears pass. 

There’s Joseph: A doctor I’ll make of my Joe, 
He’s sturdy and strong and has the right “go,” 
And gumption enough to choos 1 the right school. 
He’s steady and slow 
But will “get there” I know, 

And dispose of bacilli and the animalcule. 

There’s Danny: A musician I’ll make of my Dan, 
And his name shall ring out through every land, 
On his Christmas drum he makes the sticks fly, 
Keeps just the right time, 

When humming a rhyme, 

He will be a composer I know by and by. 

There’s Billy: A teacher I’ll make of my Bill, 
His pupils he’ll manage with caution and skill, 
His mind, how it grows! 

He can count all his toes! 

And he’ll be a “professor” before he is through. 

REALITY 

Now Jimmy the “lawyer” is a trusted chauffeur, 
And Joseph the “doctor” is clerk in a store, 

And Danny, “musician,” sells oats, corn and hay, 
And Billy, the “teacher” works out by the day. 







60 


LIFE WAVES 


A DAY 

Tis the very brightest day, 

That nature on us could bestow, 

Ereezes are gently blowing 
Soft and low. 

The grasses are springing upward, 

The buds are bursting with life, 

And earth is beginning to brighten, 

With natures strife. 

The birds are returning homeward, 

From their winter’s retreat they stray, 

They twitter and sing and are happy 
All the day. 

Then why should a mortal be sad, 

While earth is so cheerful and gay, 

With music, and flowers and sunshine, 

O, sadness away. 

For ’tis only a cloud that is passing 
O’er the sun of my life; away! 

I will not foster such phantoms 
On this beautiful day. 

But the shadows are growing longer, 

The day is beginning to wane, 

’Twill soon be gone with its brightness and song, 
A wish for return is vain. 

So while earth is rejoicing and nature is glad, 

We will chase the dark shadows away, 

And the cloud that hangs o’er us will scatter 
As the hours of this golden day. 

*—See Note Last Page. 



LIFE WAVES 


61 


WHY NOT 

“If” each would attend to his own affairs, 

And let other people attend to theirs, 

It would lift the burden of half our cares, 

And how happy we would be. 

“If” when others are “down” we would show some sand 
And reach right down and lend them a hand, 

And pull them up to a firmer stand, 

How happy they would be. 

“If” we’d try to be cheerful and sunny and glad, 
Instead of sulky and pouty and mad, 

Some hearts would be light that now are sad, 

And how happy all would be. 

A LETTER TO A FRIEND 


Dear Friend 

I thought I would drop you a line and it is my 
wish that you get it in time, before you set sail on the 
ocean wide, and I tell you I wish I was there by your 
side. 

But as that cannot be in the flesh for me, my 
spirit shall fly to you there by the sea, for the spirit’s 
not hampered by flesh and blood, and cares not a rap for 
distance nor flood. 

It shall carry my love far over the sea, into every 
land wher’er you may be. It shall carry a thought o’er 
ihe ocean blue, a message from one you know to be true. 

It shall follow you ever from .shore to shore, un¬ 
til the days of your travel are o’er. And when you re¬ 
turn to the Liverpool ship, I’ll be with you still on your 
homeward trip. 

And when at last in New York you land, I’ll be 











62 


LIFE WAVES 


right there to shake your hand, and welcome you home 
from foreign parts; home to the land of loving hearts. 

And now please don’t think of me as a ghost a- 
dogging your footsteps from pillar to post, for it’s only 
the “spirit of love” that I send to cheer and amuse my 
dear absent friend. “Bon voyage” to you, may the good 
God above return you safe home to the friends that 
you love. 


“LAID ON THE SHELF” 

“ ‘Just an old woman’ and laid on the shelf, 

Tired of the world and tired of myself, 

The young and the thoughtless pass by in their glee, 
With never a glance for old folks like me. 

“Once I was young and joyous and glad, 

Now I am old and helpless and sad, 

The crush of life’s duties are over at last, 

And the days that remain are passing so fast. 

“The struggles are buried deep under the past, 

The sorrows that once my life overcast, 

Have mellowed and levelled a tortured career, 

And left but a shadow of memories clear. 

“The life of the past is lost in the new, 

‘All things pass away’ is a saying quite true, 

No blame do I find in the natural trend, 

Tis the way of the world in the time of the end.” 

If we only would pause every once in a while, 

The aged to cheer with a word or a smile, 

For you’ve got to travel the same way yourself, 
And at some time or other be “laid on the shelf.” 



LIFE WAVES 


63 


WRINKLES 

Why! dere’s anoder wrinkle, honey, 

What’s yo’ bin doin’ t’yo’ se’f ? 

T’want dere yisterday, honey, 

T’most knocks out mah bref 
T’see ’em cornin’ on so fas’, 

Why! I declar it spoils yo’ face, 

Feel’s’s though I want t’sass 
Somebody. But den I wont, kase 
I lubs yo’ chile; not so fas’, 

Let me do de talkin’ fus’, 

I want t’ tell yo’ what’ll come t’pass, 

(Don’t git yo’ face in sech a muss.) 

Ef yo’ ’low dem creases in yo’ face 
T’keep on cornin’ lak dey is, 

’T’ll make young mars’r want t’fin’ anoder place. 
Shore, honey! don’t git mad, I ’low 
I oughtn’t talk t’yo’ lak dis but den— 

Ole mammy lubs you’, honey, so lis’n 
While yo’ mammy tell you some’m. 

Jest as sure as gospel preachin’, 

Ef yo’ keep a wrinklin’ up yo’ for’ed 
Ebry time a t’ing goes wrong. 

Why, yo’ll soon be lookin’ horrid, 

An, it don’ take so bery long, 

Tu’n de co’ners ob yo’ mouf up 
’Stid ob tu’nin’ ob dem down, 

An’ den yo’ll feel de mo’ lak smilin', 

An’ dat’ll clar away de frown. 

Mak’ yo’ eyes all bright an’ cheery, 

Let de love come poppin’ out, 

Den young mars’r wont feel skeery, 

No’ de chillen squelch de shout, 

Co’se tings comes what mak’ us sorrow, 






64 


LIFE WAVES 


Mammy knows dis suah ’nough. 

But den 'twill be all right tomorrow, 
An' love’ll smoove de places rough. 
So honey, practice smilin’, kase 
Deys heap easier den frowns, 

When yo learn jes’ how t' use ’em, 
Dey is lak a shinin’ crown. 

All de tings what keeps yo’ frettin’ 
Ef, yo’ 'low dem room inside— 

Dere, I see yo’s laughin’, honey, 

An’ old mammy’s mighty glad, 

Is yo’ home a mansion, honey, 

Or a cabin rude an’ small ? 

Jes, yo’ keep a smilin’ honey v 
An’ yo’ll float above ’em all. 


OLD AGE 

The signs of age are creeping, creeping, 
All silently their vigils keeping, 

The frosts of time hath touched the hair, 
Once golden-brown and wondrous fair, 
And left its trace upon the brow, 

Once smooth and rare but wrinkled now, 
The cheek once dimpled, round and red, 

Its rosy tint long since has fled, 

And wrinkles now the dimples seem, 

The eye has lost its youthful gleam, 

But underneath the withered breast , 

A heart beats warm for what is best, 

Nor time can wither heart of love, 

For ’tis a part of God above, 

Age cannot touch the hidden goM, 

A heart of love can ne’er grow old. 



LIFE WAVES 


65 


THE HOBO 

O, a hobo’s life is the life for me, 

For I’m at home wherever I may be, 

’Most any old place will do for my bed, 

’Bout pillows and sheets I don’t bother my head. 

And when I turn in, I sleep like a kid, 

Who by his kind mother is tucked in his crib, 
Wherever I travel I have a free pass, 

On the main-traveled road, or through the green grass, 
My meals are always prepared in advance, 

And are always ready though I come by chance. 

In the shade of a tree my table is spread, 

While the soft breezes rustle the leaves overhead, 

No fear need I have of thieves sly or bold, 

My pockets are empty of silver or gold. 

The style of my clothes may call the attention, 

But as I’m no dude they’re unworthy of mention. 

My lamps are the stars, the sun and the moon, 

And they tell when ’tis morning or evening or noon. 

I may lie in the morning and take my ease, 

For I never get up until I please, 

There’s no one to claim me nor hinder nor hold me, 
There’s no one to boss me nor blame me nor scold me, 

I don’t have to save and scrimp like a miser, 

(In this thing I think I’m a little the wiser,) 

I haven’t a care on this old green earth, 

I care not for wealth not a cent am I worth, 

I pick up my friends as I go along, 

And by them entertained by frolic and song. 

For the squirrels and birds and bees buzzing past, 

Are always the same, and the friends I love best. 

So a hobo’s life is the life for me, 

The life that I love ’tis so happy and free. 

To come and to go and sleep where I may, 





66 


LIFE WAVES 


Watch the sun going down at the end of the day. 
Then cuddle me down in my sylvan bed, 

With the stars and the blue sky overhead. 

THE RIVER 

Flow gently on, 0 river, deep and wide, 
With thy never ceasing quiver, ebbing tide. 
Softly swaying, 

Never staying 

In thy sweeping onward stride. 

Past they banks in noiseless motion, 
Onward to the mighty ocean, 

Ever creeping 
Never sleeping 

Onward still without commotion. 

Ever onward thou dost glide, 

And beneath thy waters hide, 

Undertowing, 

Backward flowing 
Living beauties there abide. 

O’er thy silvery surface gliding 
Misty forms are gaily riding, 

Breezes stirring, 

White wings, whirring 
To thy bosom e’er confiding. 

When the golden rays of sunset 
Gilds and brightens every wavelet, 

And enfolds thee, 

Nothing holds thee 
’Till old ocean thou hast met. 



LIFE WAVES 


<57 


LOVE 

Love, take not my heart away, 

But leave it whole, I pray, 

For if thou take it 
Thou mayest break it, 

So, Love please go thy way. 

Ah, hast thou come to stay? 

I tell thee nay, 

Thou must not here abide, 

Close to my side, 

I tell thee Love, away. 

And dost thou linger still 
Against my will? 

Too blind to see 
My scorn for thee, 

Why cling’st to me still? 

Poor Love: I almost pity thee 
For thy rare constancy, 

But Love brings sorrow, 

Wait ’till tomorrow, 

And then mayhap I’ll think of thee. 

Thou’rt overbold and must be chid 
For seeking out my heart unbid, 

I would delay 
Another day, 

Thou’lt not my plea forbid? 

Dear Love, and wilt thou not away? 
Then come and hold thy .sway 
Within my heart, 

We will not part, 

’Till life has ebbed away. 




68 


LIFE WAVES 


THE BLACKBIRD CONVENTION 

This morning bright and early 
I heard a great carouse 
Why! I thought it was the “suffragists” 
a-picketing the house, 

They set lip such a screeching 
it kept me wide awake. 

Without a single interlude, 

my goodness gracious sake! 

They perched high in the tree r top 

and they numbered many a score, 

And screamed and screamed until you’d 

think their throats were getting sore, 

I tried to close my eyes in sleep 
to take my morning nap, 

But they just chattered on and on 
and didn’t care a rap, 

So as I lay and listened, I dozed off 
in a dream, 

Or was it just a vision of this 
merry blackbird team, 

I saw them in convention, 
a-trying to find out 
A safe air navigation and 

the swiftest southern route, 

’Way up among the branches 
they flitted in and out, 

And now and then the “chairman” 
would give a lusty shout, 

Just like a call to order but 
nary a one gave heed, 

But just kept on a-talking with 
an ever increasing speed, 

Again they met at eventide to 



LIFE WAVES 


69 


finish their debate, 

And talked the matter over till 
it was growing late, 

Then quiet settled round about, 

their joy had seemed to cease, 

And happily I went to bed to 
slumber there in peace, 

But in the night a murmuring 

sound falls on my drowsy ear, 

(The little birds are sleeping too 
just like myself, ’tis clear,) 

Some insect call or bending 

bough disturbs their light repose, 
And then a murmur of complaint 
from out their camp arose. 

But soon with head tucked under 

wing to sleep till sunlight beams, 
They settle down their fluttering wings 
to happy pleasant dreams, 

But now they’re gone, they all 

are gone, and them no more we’ll see 
Until their next convention they 
meet up in the tree. 
























TO 


LIFE WAVES 


STYLE 


Dear Friend: 

There’s something I don’t understand, 

That’s why I am writing to you; 

I'm tired of the way that “the fashion” 

Is forever changing, aren’t you? 

We consign our old chairs to the attic, 

We give our old china away, 

We cannot eat at a table unless 

It is made in the “new-fangled” way. 

The carpet once cheerful with roses, 

With mosses and leaves intertwined, 

Is hiked out of sight for a pittance, 

Because ’tis “bizarre” “unrefined.” 

And so with our curtains, our dressers, 

They soon grow “old-fashioned” and “queer,” 

Though the fabric of one is as good as when bought 
And the mirrors are still bright and clear. 


And even our houses are changing in style, 

And it keeps one all in a rustle, 

For, to keep at the heels of “Dame Fashion,” 
We’ve just got to “get on a hustle.” 


And then when we’ve built our new houses, 
And put in the “latest fads,” 

And sit down to rest from our labors, 

We glance o’er the “fashion ads.” 



LIFE WAVES 


fi 


And lo! to our consternation 
We find to our utter shame, 

“Antiques are the very latest,” 

We must do it all over again. 

So we hunt through the “junk*lieaps and attics” 

For moth-eaten draperies and rugs, 

For remodeled fakes made by fakers, 

For curios and ceramic jugs. 

We pay the highest of prices, 

For things that are worn out and old, 

And then as we look them over, 

Find out we’re the ones who are “sold.” 

To be at the tip of the fashion, 

You must rush at the top of your speed, 

For if you but stop for a moment, 

You are very “old-fashioned” indeed- 

Now I want to ask you a question, 

What’s the use of such changing about 
From the “new to the old,” then the “old to the new?” 
If I keep on like this I’ll soon be worn out. 


IF 

If I had a million dollars, 
With no one else to share, 
I’d put it in a bank and then 
I’d be a millionaire. 

If I had a thousand acres 
Of cultivated land, 








72 


LIFE WAVES 


I’d be the richest man in town, 

And wouldn’t that be grand? 

If I had an automobile, 

All silk and satined lined, 

And a chauffeur dressed in uniform. 
Now wouldn’t that be fine? 

If I could slip along all day 
Without a thing to do, 

Now wouldn’t I be happy? 

Well, I’d be a “nothing,” too. 

If character is built this way, 

A slip-shod thing ’twould be, 

I’d rather be a tad-pole, 

Then a frog I’d get to be. 

CHEERFUL THOUGHTS 

The snow is lying on the ground, 

The saw emits a cheerful sound, 

The wood-pile rises higher and higher, 
And spells these words, “A rousing fire.” 
The sun is playing hide-and-seek, 

The birds and blossoms are asleep, 
The little birds have flown away, 

No more the frisky squirrels play, 

But very soon the snow will melt, 

The sun has thawed the chilling hour, 
And now goes flirting with a flower, 

The little buds are wide awake, 

The little birds their silence break, 

The frisky squirrels from tree to tree, 
Now leap from bough to bough in glee, 
Life has returned to hill and dell, 

And all is well again, all’s well. 



LIFE WAVES 


78 


THE CITY CHURCH 

I have settled a point 
After much research, 

That the loneliest place 
Is a city church. 

It is reared in grandeur 
Of marble and stone, 

Finest wood for the finish, 
With towering dome. 

With rare curving arches, 
Carved filigree work, 

In niches and corners 
Rich images lurk. 

The richest of colors 
In fresco, amaze! 

Memorial windows 
Like jewels ablaze. 

The organ peals forth 
In heavenly sound, 

And fills the great structure, 
Its arches resound. 

And modern electrics 
Make brilliant the place, 

But here never shines 
The sun’s happy face. 

And if you’re a stranger 
You’re shown to a pew, 




74 


LIFE WAVES 


But seldom a hand 
Is extended to you. 

To tell you you’re welcome. 
And to come back again, 
No smiling word greets you, 
No one cares a grain. 

And in manner they say. 

As plain as can be, 

“You are only a stranger, 

And nothing to me.” 


DYING OF A DAY 

The quiet hush of evening 
Is settling all around, 

The dimming light now lengthens 
Shadows cast along the ground. 

Now the shadows softly mingle 
In their silent play, 

Motionless and dim and dusky, 

’Tis the dying of a day. 

Now the brightness gently lessens, 
Now the sun sinks into rest, 

Now there’s but a blended brightness 
In the faded golden west. 

Little song-birds hush their gleeing, 
Little flowerets close their eyes, 
Now the dew is softly falling, 

Now the earth in slumber lies. 







LIFE WAVES 


76 


MY DREAM (?) 

I had the strangest dream last night. 
It seemed so real and true, 

And that is just the reason 
I'm tellin’ it to you. 

As I went walkin’ down the street, 

I saw old Davy Hawk, 

A settin’ by the grocery store, 

A spittin’ on the walk. 

And as I tried to step across 
The ever widenin’ stream, 

He just sot there and spit away, 
While I stood there and dreamed. 

So gatherin’ up my skirts and frills 
I tried to leap the flood; 

My foot slipped on the “other shore” 
And down I came “cur thud.” 

I picked me up all drabbled 
With Davy Hawk’s “juice” 

And walked on uncomplainin’ 

In my “dream,” for what’s the use? 

So he sot there chewin’, chewin’ 

With a calm unruffled brow, 

And the accommodatin’ sidewalk 
Caught and held the overflow. 

Then I fled in consternation, 

Never stoppin’ for to talk, 

And I slipped and slid and stumbled 
O’er the slimy, sluicy walk. 




76 


LIFE WAVES 


And I glared back o’er my shoulder 
At the “over-flowin’ ” Hawk, 
Still a sittin’ by the grocery, 

Still a spittin’ on the walk. 


TODAY AND TOMORROW 

Today we have met with a wrong, 

So it seems to this heart of ours, 

We have .said our good-bye 
And we wonder why, 

(As we cover the bier with flowers), 

That the world goes “jogging on.” 

We listen today for a song 

From a voice we shall hear never more. 
And we long for a face, 

In the vacant place, 

A face we shall see nevermore, 

Yet the world goes “jogging on.” 

And thus we are passing along 
O’er the way to the “by and by,” 

And our hopes they fade 
Like the blossoms laid 
On the bier that has just passed by, 

Still the world goes “jogging on.” 

But tomorrow may cover the wrong, 

And a smile take the place of a sigh, 
And we shoulder our load 
And continue our road, 

Nor wonder the reason why, 

That the world goes “jogging on.” 



LIFE WAVES 


77 


EVENING SHADOWS 

I see a tree with its branches high, 

All tangled up in the pallid sky, 

The stars are twinkling in between, 

And the moon looks down through a misty screen, 
With here and there a cloud drift piled, 

And the soft air stirred by breezes mild. 

The night-hawk swoops with rasping sound, 

From his airy flight as he nears the ground. 

The little night owl ’mong the branches high, 

Now begins to hoot his mournful cry, 

And like an echo from far away 
Comes an answering call; ’tis the closing of day, 
Through the shadows creep the scent of the wold, 
In the west still lingers a glimmer of gold, 

And now the grey shadows are settling around, 
And greet the calm night with silence profund. 


WAR 


Boys enlisting, 

Draft resisting, 
Mothers quaking. 
Hearts are breaking, 
Guns are flashing, 
Swords are slashing, 
Shells are falling, 
Death appalling! 
Wounds are bleeding, 
Red Cross speeding, 
Airplanes flying, 
Brave boys dying, 
Cannon roaring 





78 


LIFE WAVES 


Prices soaring, 
Fortunes carving, 
Children starving, 
O, the din! 

War is sin. 
Dripping trenches, 
Ghastly stenches, 
Flowing tears, 

Fill the years, 
Fields laid bare, 
And dire despair, 
Life laid waste, 

O, make haste 
And end the spell, 
For war is—well, 
I’ll let you tell. 

MY SHIP 


I build me a ship while life is new, 

And start it out o’er the ocean blue, 

How proud am I of this ship of mine, 

For love and duty its cargo combine, 

With ambition, the ballast, 

To steady the way, 

And hope as the anchor 
That brightens each day. 

A cloud in the west, far over the blue, 

Obscuring the sunshine and darkening the view 
I lower the anchor, 

That the cargo may be 
Safely kept from all harm, 

Sailing o’er the dark sea. 




LIFE WAVES 


79 


THE CALENDAR 


Tear off a leaf from the calendar— 

A month by the measure of time, 

Just half of the year 
Is gone it is clear, 

Now what have you done with yours, my dear? 

And what have I done with mine? 

Have we tilled the soil and planted the seeds? 

Have we nurtured the plants and pulled out the weeds 
Have we carefully planned for the harvest in store? 
And shall we reap better than ever before? 

Have we striven in vain to accomplish our aim? 

Has our toil gone for naught, the result without gain? 
There’s another half year let us hope for the best, 
Hope perishes only when death brings us rest. 

THE TIDES 


The tide is in. 

The slanting rays of setting sun 
Obliquely fall and tint 
Each wave with golden light, 

Then turns to rose and grey, 

Then settles into night. 

The tide recedes. 

The wavy lines along the shore, 

The tiny shells among the sand, 

The rifted sea-weed stranded there, 

The rocks smoothed by the sea’s own hand. 

These are the marks the tide has left, 

It brings sometimes a meager store, 




80 


LIFE WAVES 


But what it holds it brings along, 

And leaves upon the sandy shore. 

Life's tide rolls in. 

And through the hurrying years 
Gathers whate'er it can and piles it on 
the shore of time, 

A heap of sunshine, joy or maybe tears, 
Blended echoes of life’s varied chime. 


I WONDER WHY 


This world’s in such an awful muss, 

I wonder why! 

What is the use of such a fuss? 

I wonder why! 

There's war on land and sea, in sky, 

I wonder why! 

“Come let us kill,” the battle cry, 

I wonder why! 

The poor go hungry every day, 

I wonder why! 

Is it because they cannot pay? 

I wonder why! 

Why are we in this awful fix ? 

I wonder why! 

I wonder if its politics? 

I wonder why! 

There’s lust for power in every land, 
I wonder why! 

There's want and woe on every hand, 
I wonder why! 



LIFE WAVES 


81 


DAWN 

Grey-robed messenger of dawn, 
Linger yet a little longer, 

Stay thy cool hand on my brow, 

Thy healing touch I welcome now, 

I would grow a little stronger 
For the burden of the day, 

Grey-robed messenger, delay. 

DAY 

Gold-clad messenger of day, 

Thou art here, we hail thy coming, 
Dawn has fled, and day springs lightly 
Into being, shining brightly, 

Splendid day of early morning, 

Singing bird and insect hum, 

We are glad that thou art come. 

EVENING 

Rosy messenger of eve, 

By thy side we love to linger, 

And because we love thee much, 

We would feel the soothing touch 
Of thy gentle, restful finger, 

Now thy last bright ray we see, 

So must bid goodbye to thee. 

NIGHT 

Black-robed messenger of rest, 

Thou hast healing in thy wing* 

Gently fold it round about us, 
Silence every jar to rout us, 

From the slumber thou dost bring. 
Rest we then ’till morn.ng dawns 
Opens day and thou art gone. 



82 


LIFE WAVES 


IT CAN BE DONE 

(A Reply to Jay Sig’s “Frugality.”) 

If “Summer could be canned like grapes” 
And “stored” for “Winter” use— 
Suppose someone should break the jar 
And spill out all the juice? 

Suppose the “winsome sunshine” 

Should leak out through a crack 
And lose itself in darkness. 

And never could come back? 

Now here's a fine old recipe 
That never fails, you'll find, 

To furnish “flowers and sunshine”—. 

If you’ll “store” them in your mind. 

But youll have to “can” them early, 

Long before youth's joys are gone; 

Then you'll always have them handy 
When old age “comes creeping” on. 

“Store” the shining days of “Summer” 
And your clouds shall all be lined 
With a bit of glorious sunshine 
To “rejuvenate” your mind. 

IDEAL 

I know a place where the trailing vine 
Around the oak and ivy twine, 

And where the grass is fresh and green, 
Splashed with flowers in between, 

And where the shadows softly lie, 



LIFE WAVES 


83 


Tempting every passer-by, 

Where the cool and gentle breeze 
Rustles ’mong the glossy leaves, 

Of the low and branching trees. 
There you hear the drowsy hum 
Of the bees returning home, 

Laden with a bit of sweet, 

For the comb they build so neat, 
Where the purling brooklet flows 
Past the fern that stately grows, 

O’er the pebbles down below, 
Shining, irridescent glow, 

Music where the mimic fall, 
Sparkling where the sunbeams fall, 
Butterflies are flitting round 
Through the air or near the ground, 
And the mosses fresh and green, 
Carpet fit for any queen, 

’Tis a place where one may rest, 

By the scented air caressed, 

Lulled, content with natures wild, 
And the cheerful sounds so mild. 


CONSOLATION 

0, do not despair, my sister, 

Though from life you have gathered its toll, 
Though deserted and weeping and lonely, 

You have drained the last dregs from the bowl 
Who knows but thy sorrow 
May brighten the morrow, 

And thy tears wash the stain from thy soul. 




LIFE WAVES 


$4 


GET BUSY 

If you have a task to learn. 

Get busy. 

If there’s favors to return, 

Get busy. 

If there's any one in need, 

Get busy. 

Prove yourself a “friend indeed,’* 

Get busy. 

If there’s sorrow anywhere, 

Get busy. 

Soothe the heart with loving care, 

Get busy. 

If there’s grief you have to bear, 

Get busy. 

For life’s burdens all must share, 

Just keep busy. 

REMEMBER TO FORGET 

Forget the ill, remember but the good, 

Forget the ill? Ah, if but we would, 

Forget the frown or harsh word spoken, 

Forget the promises forgot or broken, 

Ah, if but we would- 

Forget the look of scorn, the look of hate, 

Remember but the good before it is too late, 

Forget revengeful thought, ’tis poison to thy soul, 
Destroys thy peace and takes its fearful toll. 

Ah, if but we would. 

Forget thy disappointment and brood not o’er the past, 
Although its shadow may across thy life be cast, 
Forget thy sorrow, for of life it is a part, 



LIFE WAVES 


86 


Forget to grieve and gain a victory o’er thy aching 
heart, 

Ah, if but we would. 

BOSTON 


O Boston! 

With thy curious winding ways 
And traditions old 

Of the bygone wonder-days, 

Now retold. 

O Boston! 

With thy pride forever ringing 
Of ancestry old, 

Is thy heart with love a singing 
Or grown cold? 

0 Boston! 

Hear thy wonder-music ringing, 

A magnetic glow, 

Is it peace on earth a-bringing 

In its ebb and flow? 

0 Boston! 

Awake, forget thy noble birth, 
For noble only he 

Who shows by character his worth 
And true nobility. 





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LIFE WAVES 


TO A FRIEND ON HER BIRTHDAY 

(One Hundred Years Old) 

Life is mostly what we make it, 

For ourselves, and others too. 

Our character we build, I take it 
According to our point of view. 

In the summer there is sunshine, 

But it mingles with the rain, 

And it takes them both to harvest 
Sheaves of golden grain. 

There’s the frosty air of winter, 

When the shining depths of snow 

Covers o’er with softest mantle, 

Tiny seeds that they may grow. 

Into beauty pure and fragrant, 

Or in ripe and fruitful store, 

And the tempest and the sunshine 
Brings them all within our door. 

So we labor, love together, 

In the sunshine and the rain, 

And the harvest of our planting 
Shall return to us again. 

If we sow the seeds of friendship, 

We shall reap friends by the score, 

For the love kept warm and lcyal, 

Fills the measure running o’er. 

There is sorrow in the gladness 
Of a hundred passing years, 



LIFE WAVES 


87 


There is joy in the sadness, 

Mingled smiles and tears. 

In thy many days of toil, dear friend, 

Of sorrows, smiles and tears. 

You have proved a valiant comrade, 

Through the passing hundred years. 

We cannot wish long life to you, 

Who’s lived beyond life’s span, 

But we know you’ll live forever 
In our hearts, and in God’s plan. 

And may each day grow brighter, 

As you near the “border line,” 

And may your heart grow lighter 
’Till that glorious harvest time. 

THE MEASURE 

The joy of living is the joy of giving, 

Let us fill our measure full to the brim, 

With sympathy, love, our flowers to the living, 

For when we give, we give of ourselves, 

And this is the only true standard of giving. 

If we know how to give we know how to live, 

If we’re cheery and helpful, and loving and kind, 
And giving the best that is in us, 

The joy that is born of a generous mind, 

Like “bread on the waters” will return again to us. 

We multiply joy in the act of giving. 

Our budget of love, or the right kind of living, 
For we’re sure to receive the measure we give, 

And by this measure we always may know, 

What part of ourselves we are giving. 






LIFE WAVES 


88 


Part II—Juvenile 

THE FLEDGLING 


Dear little bird in the dear home nest 
So snug and warm under mother’s warm breast 
A place to grow and a place to rest, 

While the heart grows brave and the wing grows strong 
To flutter and fly away e’er long. 

MOTHER'S DAY 

0 yes, I enjoyed “Mother’s Day” 

But to me it .seems too bad, 

For when they told ’bout mother. 

Why didn’t they tell ’bout Dad? 

They said how nice mothers acted 
To all of us naughty “kids,” 

And it never changed her love at all, 

Even when we told her fibs. 

My mother’s mighty good to me 
You bet, I’m mighty glad 
She’s the very bestest mother, 

And I’ve got the bestest Dad. 

He takes me out to ride with him, 

And gives me pennies too, 




LIFE WAVES 


89 


And I’m very sure he loves me, 
’Bout him they never said “boo.” 

I know I love my mother 
As any boy should do, 

And I am very very sure 
I love my Daddy too. 


MOTHER 


Who makes us our first little “coaties” we wear ? 
Who tells us of all the bad things to beware? 

Who washes our faces and combs out our hair? 
Who thinks of all kiddies we are the most fair? 
Mother. 

Who bakes us wee cookies and tartlets so nice? 

Who fills them so full of raisins and spice? 

Who tells us nice stories of little white mice? 

Who never gets tired of telling them twice? 
Mother. 

Who kisses the hurt when we bump our wee head ? 
Who hears our wee prayers and tucks us in bed ? 
Who gets up at night to make sure we’re not dead ? 
Who covers us up when the covers we shed ? 

Mother. 

Who, when we grow up, is still our best friend? 

Who is sure we can’t fail but will always ascend? 
Who always is willing our woes to attend? 

Who loves us alway, even unto the end? 

Mother. 





90 


LIFE WAVES 


SPRING 

I heard a robin singing 
Before the morning light 
Had touched the darkened corners, 
Left by the shadowy night. 

And now the early flowers 
Are stirring in the ground, 

For they have heard the robin’s song 
And tremble at the sound. 

Miss Lily, in her bridal robe, 

Is “bursting” with delight, 

And soon Miss Tulip’s “golden head” 
Will be nodding with delight. 

The maple trees once bleak and bare 
Show life is moving even there, 
And soon the life-blood of the tree 
Will give new life to you and me. 

A WEE MOUSE 

A wee little mousie was hungry one day, 
And hunting around for a bite; 

For no one in the world ever thot to feed 
This shy little wandering mite. 

So hither and thither he darted about 
For something to suit his appetite. 

“Since mousies must steal, 

Here’s a fine bag o’ meal 

So I’ll nibble a hole right here out o’ sight, 






LIFE WAVES 


It can never be missed 
Such a very small grist 

That I’ll take for my dinner tonight. 

So if mousies must steal 
I’ll just sample this meal/’ 

So he nibbled away with delight. 

CAUGHT 

A poor little mousie was frightened one day 
And ran into a hole out of sight, 

A fine lump of cheese lay temptingly there, 
Says mousie, ‘Til just take a bite.” 

The poor little mouse, unsuspecting began 
To nibble its lunch—O horrible man! 

To beguile a shy mousie, a wee hungry mfte, 
To so tempting a feast, no danger in sight. 
And when the next morning 
Man looks for his game, 

A dead little mousie 
He finds, to his shame. 









91 





















92 


LIFE WAVES 


YE OLDEN TIME 


O la, 0 dear me, 

What a difference they say 
Are the girls of the past 
And the girls of today. 

Then we knitted our hose, 

And mended our clothes 
By the bright winter fire, 

While grand-mother dozed. 

We pared the red apples 
And hung them to dry 
On strings by the fire-place, 

From the rafters, up high. 

When the big yellow pumpkins 
From the corn field they’d bring 
We would peel and cut into 
Immense golden rings. 

And string them on poles 
In the warm air to dry, 

And later to make 

Into Thanksgiving pie. 

Then in the bright glow 
From the roaring fire-log, 

We would study our spellers 
Our memories to jog. 

For the “spelling-down” contest, 

A merry, rare treat, 

Where each did his best 
His neighbor to beat. 





LIFE WAVES 


93 








The old spinning-wheel 
In the corner near by 
With its cheery low hum, 

See its spokes how they fly! 


Thus we spun the white wool, 
From the gentle lambs shorn, 
Into big skeins of yam 
All fleecy and warm. 

We’d go down in the meadow 
And rake the sweet hay, 

Then ride home on Old Dobbin 
At the close of the day. 

At night when the candle 
Was lit, near the hearth, 

Each drew his chair nearer 
To partake of such mirth. 

As the roasting of apples 
In front of the fire, 

And naming the apple-seeds 
Each crowding nigher. 

That not one should be lost 
Nor hidden away 
In the rich pulpy mass, 

When—“three I love I say.” 

“Four I love with all my heart’’ 
“Five” is lost, may be. 

But here is six to take its place 
And “seven” where is he? 





94 


LIFE WAVES 


0 here he is beside the “eight” 

Eight means—you know— 

That we do not hate — 

And now we’ll let that go. 

Then comes the last 

(They say the best of all) 

For when he comes “at nine” 

And tarries in his call, 

It only takes “two” more to close 
This little loving game, 

Two makes a great big difference 
In choosing the right name. 

Thus each one reads his fate 
In the rhyme so old and tender 
And dreamed of the same old love 
With its rosy tinted splendor. 

So, the girls of “yesterday” 

And the girls of “today” 

Are very much alike 
In the same old way. 

THAT JOHNSON KID 

One day I thot I would go and play 
With that Johnson kid, just over the way, 

I said, “We’ll play horse” but the kid he said “Nay 
We’ll play we are soldiers and marching away.” 

I said, “we’ll play horse or I’ll not stay,” 

He said, “You can go, for I will not play 
With you unless I can play my way.” 

What a jolly good time we could have had that day 
If the Johnson kid would have played “my way.” 



LIFE WAVES 


95 


A BOY’S IDEA 


If I was boss of this old world 

There’s some changes I would make, 

I’d never get up in the morning 
’Till I was wide awake. 

I’d always have for breakfast 
Pancakes, and syrup, too, 

And all the cake I wanted 

And candy, and chewin’ gum too. 

My pocket’s be runnin’ over 

With pennies and nickles and dimes 

And I’d spend ’em for what I wanted 
And have the best old times. 

I’d go to the nickleodium 
Every night in the week, 

And I’d have a ridin’ pony 
All fat and glossy and sleek. 

I’d never “dress up” on Sundays, 

But loll on the grass and “rest” 

All the day long in the orchard. 

(I jest despise to be dressed.) 

I’d not let the birds build their nestes 
So far away up in a tree, 

But way down low on the branches 
Where a feller could look in and see. 

’Cause it’s hard to climb down a tree 
With your legs and just one hand. 

With a nest full of eggs in your hat, 

’Cause you never know just how you’ll land. 



96 


LIFE WAVES 


You bet I’d never go to school 
And study 'rithmetic, 

Nor learn to spell nor nothin* 

The whole thing makes me sick! 

I'd just take down by fishin-rod 
And off I’d go and fish, 

And I’d bring home some “whoppers,” 
If I just had my wish. 

And dad’d do the scalin', 

And mother’d fry ’em brown, 

And then I’d eat em up and be 
The happiest boy in town. 

If I was boss of this old world, 

You bet I’d make things hum, 

I’d make it “tumble” just my way, 
And wouldn’t I have fun? 


A BARNYARD ROMANCE 

A lively young pullet one morning in spring, 

Was singing a shrill roundelay, 

When the cock of the walk with a wave of his wing, 
Came and wished tho pullet goodday, 

“You’ve a pretty red comb,” said the cock to the hen, 
“And your feathers are glossy and sleek, 

You have the most musical voice in our pen, 
Aristocratically curved is your beak.” 

The hen cocked her eye with a quizzical stare, 

Which swept him from top-knot to toe, 

And said plain enough in hen-language, “beware, 

I’ll look further, I’d have you to know.” 

And then she took herself off in a huff. 




LIFE WAVES 


97 


As fast as her legs could go, 

And related the romance to old lady “Buff” 
While her lover cried, cock-a-doodle-doo. 


MISS PEACH BLOSSOM 

The robins have come, the shrubs show life, 
And the trees are showing green, 

The lilac boughs with pink buds rife, 

And the modest blue-bells are seen. 

The violets vie with the blood-root, 

The cherry’s outstripped by the plum, 

And the sprouting bulbs of the crowfoot, 
And other sweet herbs have begun. 

Then along comes a “pert” little maiden 
Full dressed in her new spring gown, 

No fear of the air, charm laden, 

Nor the bees that are buzzing around. 

“Peach Blossom” sweet lassie, tho daring, 
Appears in her brightest, to please, 

She’d rather by far bo a sharing 
The sleep of some wiser old trees. 

She dances about in the sunshine, 

In her dainty pink “open-work” gown, 

And flirts with the early spring zephyrs 
As though clad in the warmest of down. 

Look out for Jack Frost, Miss Blossom, 
For your tender heart he may reach, 

Could you wait in your corner, 

Till the days grow warmer, 

You’d grow into a luscious peach. 




98 


LIFE WAVES 


TIME FLIES 

Grandmother says, u O, how time flies,” 

I wonder why! I wonder why! 

Instead, to me it drags and drags, 

I never see it fly. 

Why, it’s so long since I was six 
And had a birthday; and I fear 

’Twill never come, but grandma says 
“ ’Tis only half a year.” 

It seems so long since Santa came, 

A year? It seems ’bout four, 

If I were making Christmases, 

I’d make a whole lot more. 

But grandma says the minutes “fly,” 

“It seems but yesterday.” 

To me it’s awful, awful long 
And years and years away. 

Shall I be old like grandmamma, 

When another year drags by? 

I think it would be funny 
To watch the “minutes fly.” 

Dear grandma, I don’t understand 
Just how such things can be, 

So won’t you please to tell me why 
Time seems so long to me? 

She laid her hand upon my head 
And in her eye I saw a tear, 

And then she said in her sweet way, 

“Some day you’ll understand, my dear.” 



LIFE WAVES 


99 


DAN CUPID 

(For Valentine’s Day) 

Five Young Girls. 

THE WELCOME 

(In Concert) 

You are welcome to our party, 

And we’re very glad you came, 

You see we’re well and hearty, 

And we hope you are the same, 

We wish you all a happy day, 

But then if you should find 
Our program all too light and gay, 

Just blame it on St. Valentine. 

FIRST GIRL 

Dan Cupid is the god of love, 

(And many follies too) 

I cannot feel the same toward him 

As many people do 

Who talk of “Cupid and his arts,” 

And how he shoots at people’s hearts, 

I don’t believe it’s true. 

SECOND GIRL 

I’ve been wondering of late 
How the fellow .shoots so straight, 

And knows just where to find a heart. 
And never fails to hit his mark, 

And how he flies without a feather, 

And how he stands this freezing weather. 

THIRD GIRL 

If Cupid ever shoots at me 

I’ll smash his arrow, you’ll just see. 

And he’s so head strong, I have found 
I’d never want the “kid” around. 


) > ) 




100 


LIFE WAVES 


FOURTH GIRL 

Now, girls, just follow my advice, 
And never look at Cupid twice, 

And never let him pierce your heart 
With his .swift and shining dart. 

FIFTH GIRL 

I will not hear a word you say 
’Gainst Cupid and his “archery,” 
Don’t underestimate his worth, 

He is the only saint on earth. 

He’s only doing what he’s bid 
And sometime in the by and by 
You .shall know the reason why. 

SONG BY ALL 

Tune, “Yankee Doodle” 

Dan Cupid is a daring sprite 
Now did you see him winking, 

On rapid wing he takes his flight, 

I wonder what he’s thinking. 

Chorus— 

O Danny Cupid, cu, cu, cu, 

We don’t know what to do, do, do, 
We are afraid that you, you, you 
Will come and shoot us too, too, too- 

Chorus— 

O, Danny Cupid thinks he’s smart, 
He comes when you’re not thinking, 
And leaves his arrow in your heart, 
Now this is what he’s thinking. 

Chorus— 

“They say I am a heap too smart, 
But then they all adore me. 

Is it my fault I hit the mark 
When they get right before me?” 


( 


< f < 



LIFE WAVES 


101 


FRIENDSHIP 

When I think of you I think of a smile, 

Of a heart warm and true 
And free from all guile, 

Of a life full of tenderness, sympathy, love, 

A radiance shining down from above, 

I think of a friendship that holds to the end, 

And I know this is what you are, my dear friend. 


To gather the sunshine as you go 
Will make your life sublime, 

To scatter it out along the way, 
And share it with others, divine. 


There’s a brightness in the .sunshine 
That we often fail to see, 

There is music in the earth-land 
Often lost to you and me. 


A glittering crown is naught to me, 
Nor pageant of a court, 

Nor mimic pride of royalty, 

Nor aping royal sport, 

But I will not of friendship’s crown 
A single gem refuse, 

And grieved I’d be the smallest gem 
From this rare crown to lose. 


Old friends are good, 
And so are the new, 

If you’ll be my friend, 
I’ll be one to you. 


Take this message which I send 




















102 


LIFE WAVES 


As a blessing from a friend, 
May you always happy be 
Is the wish I send to thee, 
May thy Joy-bells ever ring, 
Merry as the birds of spring. 


Dear Friend, I am sorry I haven’t the time 
To think up a greeting and put it in rhyme, 

So I’m sending to you 
My greetings in prose, 

For I’m not a poet, as every one knows, 

Now this prosy stuff 
I hope you’ll excuse, 

And the best of intentions you will not refuse, 
And I will be loyal right on to the end, 

In poem or prose, as ever, your friend. 


From you and from me 
The days float by, 

We live them, my friend, 

With a smile or a sigh, 

If you think of me with a weary sigh, 
Won’t you drop me a line 
And tell me why? 

If, instead, you think of me with a smile, 
Won’t you send me a greeting just once in 
a while? 


The hardiest bud that springs from the ground, 
Must be nourished by sunshine and shower, 

Or else it will wither away and die, 

And never unfold its flower. 


To prove my friendship ever true, 
This friendly wish I send to you: 
“May every day of every year 








LIFE WAVES 


Be filled and running o’er with cheer, 
And may the sparkling overflow 
Reach many a heart and leave a glow 
Of sunshine that it never knew 
Until, dear friend, ’twas shed by you.” 
Thus glorified, Joy has no end, 

But passes on from friend to friend. 


If I am worth a single thought, 
Then give that thought to me, 
And I will give one back again, 
But doubled it shall be. 


There’s Xmas and New Years ar.d Valentine’s day, 
And each in its turn is good in its way, 

But Easter betokens the advent of spring, 

New life bounding up, new voices that sing, 

New life in the air, the grasses, the tree, 

New life in the birds so happy and free, 

A happy new time, melodious chime 
A singing for you and for me. 


This greeting comes with wishes true, 
Our mutual friendship to renew, 

May all that’s jolly, blithe and sweet 
Around your hearth in gladness meet. 


I was a stranger, and you were kind, 

With loving thought I will keep you in mind, 
“To entertain strangers”—the Master said true, 
For an angel appears oft to me and to you, 

And love is the angel which stays in the heart, 
When out from our life the strangers depart. 


103 









104 


LIFE WAVES 


SHE 


Don’t ask me to bait a hook 
To catch an unwary fish, 

For I can’t bear the squirm 
Of an innocent worm, 

And I say it is just heathenish. 

Don’t ask me to chop the head 
From a happy barnyard bird, 

For I feel I’d drop 
When I see them flop, 

I never could do it, my word! 

HE 

But I saw her the other day 
With a sharp and ugly knife, 

Gouge the eyes right out of a tater, 

As unconcerned as life. 

And then again with a cleaver 
Split a cabbage head in two, 

Then she tore the ears from a cornstalk, 

All of which she made into a stew. 

Then she cut out the hearts of some lettuce, 
And snipped off a cauliflower’s head, 

Then proceeded to mix up a salad, 

Without blinking an eye in her head. 

And I saw her skin a dead beet, 

Which she fried in hot browned butter, 

Then she sat herself down and partook 
of them all, 

And no word of pity did utter. 




LIFE WAVES 


105 


MY CHRISTMAS WISH 

What do I want? Do you ask we to tell? 

When Christmas comes round with its ding-dong bell, 
And Old Santa again comes marching down 
From the land of toys to “Dreamland" town; 

I want him to creep from house to house 
(A merry old fellow, but as still as a mouse) 

And fill each stocking from top to toe, 

With the gifts he has brought from the land of snow, 

I want him to hasten to “poverty row" 

To the tumble-down house, where the lights burn low. 
Where the hungry babe in the corner sleeps, 

While the mother sits by its side and weeps, 

I want him to enter each sorrowful place 
With his hearty cheer and smiling face, 

And lift from each heart its burden of care 
And leave in its place a song and a prayer, 

And when he’s been round to all of these places 
And left a bright smile on all of their faces, 

If he thinks that I, of my share am bereft, 

I’ll not be a baby, but take what is left. 

REDUCTION 

Once a young hen hatched seven chicks, 

One was taken ill, then there were six, 

Six little chicks very much alive, 

One got drowned, then there were five, 

Five little chicks near a barn door, 

The door slammed shut, then there were four, 
Four little chicks resting by a tree, 

Little jays were hungry 
And then there were three. 



106 


LIFE WAVES 


Three little chicks independent grew, 

One got the pip and then there were two, 
Two little chicks scratching in the sun, 
Tommy cat came walking by, 

Then there was one. 

One little chick wandering round alone, 
An old rat said, “how lonely,” 

And then there were none. 


TRIX 

I know a little dog 
With funny little tricks, 

And a cute curly tail, 

And his name is Trix. 

He runs up on our porch 
And scratches on the door, 

For he likes a bit of candy, 

And then he begs for more. 

He twists his little body 

And wags his curly tail 

And licks his little chops and winks, 

And knows you will not fail. 

And when he’s licked up every crumb, 

And passes out the door, 

He looks so wise and happy, 

And then just begs for more. 

Right well he knows when comes the time 
That he will get no more, 

So trots off home, but comes again, 

And scratches on the door. 



LIFE WAVES 


107 


CHRISTMAS IS HERE 

Christmas is here, Christmas is here, 

With its merry bells ringing out bright and clear, 
’Tis the happiest time for the girls and the boys, 
With its nuts and sweets and its jingling toys, 
While the turkey is roasting as fast as it can, 
We’ll roll the soft snow and make a big man, 
There’s a book for Grace and a doll for Sue, 
There are skates for Dan, and a drum for Hugh, 
A dish for mamma that she can use, 

A rattle for baby and a pair of red shoes, 

But the best of all is, as you can well see 
Is a dolly’s carriage, and that is for me. 

Old Santa’s the dearest old man that I know, 
(’Cept papa and mamma and baby, you know,) 
He always knows just what I like best 
And Sue and Grace and all the rest, 

’Tis a puzzle to me and I s’pose ’tis to you, 

Dan says a “mouse tells him,” 

Do you s’pose that is true? 


A HELPER (?) 


Sorry I can’t help you, Ma, 

With all this work today. 

For I’ve told the superintendent 
I’d prepare for “Children’s Day,” 

There are so many things to do 
In the church and league and clubs. 

(I wish you’d let that washing be) 

“Uh, huh,” says Ma, with flushing trow 
And just goes on and rubs. 

Pray what’s the use in washing, Ma, 
When I’m not here to help you, 




108 


LIFE WAVES 


For I’ve promised Mrs. L. I’d play 
Tomorrow night at the P. E. TJ. 

Entertainment, so I must practice, 

Wish I had time to help you wash those duds. 

“Uh huh,” says Ma and just goes on and rubs. 

CARPET SWEEPER TO A BRIDE 

Please lady, I’m here alookin’ for work, 

If you’ll give me a job you’ll find I’m no shirk, 

I’m easy to manage when you know just how, 
And I never was known to kick up a row, 

I’ll sweep up your floor so tidy and neat, 

I never am lazy, but quick on my feet, 

I’m quiet and faithful and willing to be 
Your tireless servant, just try me and see, 

And when I am through with my work for the day 
I’ll always be quiet, nor get in your way, 

I never am hungry, nor need I a bed, 

I never have lovers, I never shall wed, 

I’ll be your true servant as long as I live, 

And I’ll never regret the service I give, 

From one place to another I don’t gad about, 

And so when I’m wanted, I never am “out,” 

For payment right treatment is all that I need, 

For I never was known to be troubled with greed, 

I hope you’ll not mind this loose-fitting skirt, 

For I always remove it, when I’m at my work, 

I don’t care for dress nor with style to compete, 

I’m wearing it now to cover my feet. 

And now my dear lady, I’m yours if you will, 

So accept of my service, your orders I’ll fill. 

And now if you’re doubtful of my recommend, 

Just write to these ladies, each one is a friend. 

* See Note Last Page. 



LIFE WAVES 


109 


A HIGHWAY TRAGEDY 

A watchful spider saw a fly 
Entangled in his web of lace, 

Each looked the other in the eye. 
Fought bravely face to face. 

Because it was a hunger riot 
(And spider must have food) 

He took just what came first in sight, 
And flies are very good. 

“Let go your hold,” buzzed out the fly, 
The spider gripped so tight, 

That soon poor fly he had to die, 

He died of spider-bite. 

The spider made him fast with thongs, 
The fly turned on his back, 

And safely in the spider’s clutch 
Went down into his shack. 


WHICH ? 


Some little faces are rosy and glad, 

Some little faces are pale and sad, 

Some little faces look sour and mad, 
Now which one looks like me? 

Some little hands are busy and clean, 
Some little hands are idle and mean, 
Some cruel, some soiled, unfit to be seen, 
I wonder which are like mine? 



110 


LIFE WAVES 


Some little feet are willing and strong, 

Some little feet go dragging along, 

And some are idle all day long. 

Now which do you think are mine? 

Some little tongues say things that are dear, 
Some little tongues say things that are queer, 
Some little tongues oft bring a tear, 

Now which shall I choose for mine? 


ANDENKEN 

(Remembrance) 

Shall I forgotten be 
When life shall crowd, 

Life’s work all clamoring loud 
Around thee? 

Shall I forgotten be 
When love shall crown 
Thy life with fuller joy? 

So let it be. 

But ne’er forget shall I 

Kind acts and kind words spoken, 
And I will pray no golden link 
Of friendship’s chain be broken. 


Old friends are dear to me and thee, 
But a new friend 
May be a true friend, 

And this is what we each may be. 




LIFE WAVES 


111 


CHRISTMAS WISH 

For you I have a great big wish, 

In form, a great big cut glass dish, 

But since my purse will not permit, 

(Since heart and purse are a misfit,) 

You have the “wish’’ instead of “it.” 

You can go to the stores and buy what you wish, 
In “haviland ware,” or a cut glass dish, 

But search the stores from end to end, 

You never can find the “heart of a friend,” 

But you’ll find the heart in the trinket I send. 

There is kindly thought with love interwoven 
Into every stitch of this very small token, 

And it spells out a word in language unspoken, 

Of “A Friendship Unbroken.” 

TO A BRIDE 

A friend to a bride, 

May love always abide, 

All sorrow to hide, 

May the “knot” that is tied 
Binding bridegroom and bride 
In all the world wide 
Nevermore be untied, 

Nor anger, nor pride 
Your dear love divide, 

Like a bird that has died, 

On a shelf laid aside. 

So good wishes and love 
To the bride I now send, 

And the same to the groom, 

As ever, your friend. 




112 


LIFE WAVES 


SOME PECULIARITIES OF THE E. L. 

For the past tense of cry we never say crew, 

Though in speaking of fly we always say flew, 

When we hear a child cry, we say that he cried, 

But when the birds fly we don’t say they flied; 

And when using row, we always say rowed, 

But grow is never, no never, called growed; 

While the past tense for blow, we all know is blew, 
Then why shouldn’t flow be also called flew? 

And when we say slow we never say slew; 

And neither is stow ever changed into stew, 

If the past tense of glow is certainly glowed, 

Then why shouldn’t go be as certainly goed ? 

Then again when we see, the past is not seed, 

But for the word free, the grammar is freed. 

When grammar says see in the past tense is saw, 

Then why shouldn’t free be also called fraw? 

And then when we try we say we have tried, 

But yet when we buy we never say buyed, 

Nor yet when we try to say we have trew, 

Nor when we have bought to say we have bew; 

We say to take heed, or again he has heeded, 

Though when speaking of feed we don’t say has feeded 
Then as we say heeded why not he has hed? 

Just the same if we feed we are sure to be fed? 

’Tis considerably mixed, you’ll agree with me when 
I tell you these lines came straight from a pen. 

JUNE 

Born in the month of June, 

When the roses are in bloom, 

And the butterflies are busy ’mor,g the flowers, 
When the humming-bird flitters 
Where the sunlight glitters, 

0, I’m glad that I was born in June. 



LIFE WAVES 


113 


Part III — Songs 

SONG (COMIC) 

There’s a neat little maid 
In the town of La Rue, 

I told her I loved her 
And that was quite true, 

I told her I loved her 
Now wouldn’t have you? 

The dear little maid 
In the town of La Rue. 

Chorus— 

I called her my love 
And said I’d be true 
The dear little maid 
My Tootsie-woo-woo. 

Another sweet maid 
By the name of Rosean, 

Now appeared on the scene 
And altered my plan, 

For straightway in love 
My dear sir, I fell in 
With Rosean the maid 
From Androscogin. 

Chorus— 

Now one of these maids 
I wished to call wife, 

But which one it would be 
I couldn’t tell for my life, 

If I chose my Rosean 
I was sure that I knew 




114 


LIFE WAVES 


That Fd wish ’twere the other 
My Tootsie-woo-woo. 

Chorus— 

And then if I chose 
My Tootsie-woo-woo, 

The neat little maid 
In the town of La Rue, 

I felt sure if I could 
I would alter my plan, 

And wish I had married 
My sweet-heart Rosean. 

Chorus— 

So I racked my poor brain 
Till I thot of a plan, 

And finally concluded 
To marry Rosean, 

And then if I found 
I had made a mistake, 

My case to the court 
I straightway would take. 
Chorus— 

I would ask of the court 
To divide us in two, 

And then I would hie 
To the town of La Rue, 

And marry the maid, 

My Tootsie-woo-woo, 

The neat little maid 
My Tootsie-woo-woo. 

Chorus— 

And again if I found 
A mistake in my plan, 



LIFE WAVES 


115 


That instead of my Tootsie 
I wanted Roseau— 

So, whenever I try 
A true choice to make, 

In one way or other 
I fear a mistake. 

Chorus— 

About these two maids 
Pray what shall I do? 

When I think of Rosean 
Then I think of La Rue— 

My mind is made up 
I will marry Rosean— 

No! What will become 
Of my Tootsie-woo-woo ? 

TEMPERANCE SONG 


’Mong the rummies there’s a rustle, 

Put ’em down, put ’em down, 
For they fear the Leaguer’s hustle, 

Put ’em down, 

See, they in their boots are quaking 
For their money-pots are shaking 
On foundations, crumbling, breaking, 
Their last efforts they are making, 

Put ’em down. 


Chorus— 


We are tired of being dummies, 

Put ’em down, 

Fools and tools of lawless rummies, 

Put ’em down, 


Let them rustle 



116 


LIFE WAVES 


While we hustle 

For we’re bound to win the tussle, 

Put ’em down. 


Drunkards of our boys they’re making, 
Put ’em down, put ’em down, 
It is time to be awaking, 

Put ’em down, 

And our boys and girls to save 
From the swift and deadly wave 
Flowing o’er the best and brave, 
Hurrying to a pauper’s grave, 

Put ’em down. 


Chorus— 


Shall we let our homes be looted? 

Put ’em down, put ’em down, 
And by dram-shops be poluted? 

Put ’em down, 

Shall we sleep and slumber on 
While vice is hunting virtue down, 
Shall innocence and youth go wrong 
While yet we’re lingering along? 

Put ’em down. 


Chorus— 


No, we’ll never let them rob us, 

Put ’em down, put ’em dowm 
Of our homes and those who love us, 

Put ’em down, 

Let us up and in our might 
Drive the rum-ship from our sight, 
Battling for the cause of right, 

We’ll be victors in the fight, 

Put ’em down. 


Chorus— 




LIFE WAVES 


117 


Let every voter get in line, 

Put ’em down, put ’em down. 
Let us close the doors of crime, 

Put ’em down, 

Let us raise the battle-cry 
We will conquer or we’ll die 
We can do it if we try, 

And we’ll rout ’em by and by, 

Put ’em down. 


BOATING SONG 


Come, come, come, 

Come where the daylight fades, 

Come where the silvery moon 
Gleams o’er the hill and glade. 

Come where the bright moonbeams sparkle 
O’er the waters of the Bay, 

When it tints each gentle ripple 
As it swells and floats away. 

Chorus— 

Tra la la la la la la, 

Tra la la la la la la, 

We are happy as the stars that shine, 

As they twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, 

To our jolly, jolly chime, 

Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, 

Then we’ll row, row, row, 

And we’ll splash, splash, splash, 

And we’ll beat a low tattoo 
To the merry, merry rhyme. 

Come, come, come, 

Come with thy light canoe 



118 


LIFE WAVES 


And we’ll glide o’er the silvery wave 
As we shout a glad halloo, 

And the echoing shores from afar 
Take up the glad refrain 
And the mocking phantom cadence 
Comes a-dancing back 2gain. 

Chorus— 

Come, come, come, 

Come with thy voices sweet, 

Come where the shore and the wave 
With their tinkling music meet, 

And each gentle splash of the oar 
A mystical, musical strain, 

As low as a lullabye sweet, 

As soft as an angel’s refrain. 

Chorus— 


WE’LL BE THERE 

We’re sturdy sons of Uncle Sam, 
And we never “take a dare,” 

And when our country calls us 
Let me tell you, we’ll be there. 

Chorus— 

Yes, we’ll be there, dear Uncle Sam, 
For you to do and dare, 

So call us if you need us, 

And we’ll be there. 

We are loyal and we’re willing 
And we’re ready to declare 
If our country is in danger 
We’ll be there. 

Chorus— 



LIFE WAVES 


119 


We’ll exchange our desks for danger 
And our plows for sword or gun, 
When we hear the bugle calling 
We’ll be coming on the run. 

Chorus— 

We’ll be away up toward the front, 
Let the enemy beware, 

And if there’s any fightmg 
We’ll be there. 

Chorus— 

With Uncle Sam and loved ones, 
Our loyalty we’ll share, 

And give our lives for liberty, 

Say! We’ll be there. 








120 


LIFE WAVES 


HEART TO HEART 

If in this little book you find 
There’s naught to comfort heart or mind, 
Naught to bring a single ray 
Of hope and love along the way, 

Naught to check the sorrowing tear, 

Naught to make a friend more dear, 

Naught to teach us to forgive, 

Those whom we love, for whom we live, 

To help the needy, “cheer the feint” 

Our burdens bear without complaint, 

If nothing in this book you find 
To cheer the heart or lift the mind 
From sordid cares to things sublime, 

To crave for all that’s pure, divine, 

Then I have failed my purpose true, 

The time’s been lost to me and you, 

But if one heart has lighter grown, 

If one lone .seed has found a home 
And there has checked a single tear, 

And taught the eye to see more clear, 

Then with my muse I am content. 

Who to my mind these verses ^ent, 

Not aiming at “poetic art,” 

Just thoughts which bring us heart to heart. 



LIFE WAVES 


12t 


INDEX 

Page 

Frontispiece . 1 

Greeting . 3 

Dear Mr. Critic .*. 5 

Crowding .,.... 6 

Understanding . 6 

Christmas Eve .*. 7 

The Little Blue Moth . 7 

My Wish .*. 8 

The Old Oak Tree .*. 9 

A Garden . 10 

What’s In A Name.. 11 

A Bountiful Guest . 12 

Memories . 12 

Love Bells . 13 

The Tomoka ...14-15 

The Warning . 16 

The Dream Of The Little Brown Bird .17-18 

The Stray .*. 19 

My Photograph Album .20-21-22 

Old Friend ... 23 

The Bluette . 24 

The Five Senses .*. 25 

Two Phases Of Life ... 26 

The Old-Fashioned Man .<. 27 

L’Voi . 28 

Noblemen .. 29 

Beauty Everywhere . 39 

When The Corn Is In The Milk . 31 

1917 . 31 

The Working Man .. 32 

The Mayflower . 33 


































122 


LIFE WAVES 


Good Advertising . 33 

“Give The Devil His Due”. 34 

My Creed .,. 35 

Hope . 35 

Grumblers . 36 

The Seasons .37-38 

Morning . 39 

Old Ocean .40-41 

Disappointment . 42 

Written For Edith . 43 

Sermon From Nature . 44 

Night . 44 

If I Were A Robin . 45 

A Dream . 46 

Madam Redbreast . 46 

The Promise . 47 

The Gossip . 48 

When The Heart Is Young. 48 

Our Fathers ..49-50 

The Chickadee .51-52 

Since The World Began . 53 

The Table Set For One .*. 54 

After Forty Years .55-56 

What’s The Use . 57 

Noon . 57 

Caste . 58 

Mother Dreams. 59 

A Day . 60 

Why Not ... 61 

A Letter To A Friend . 61 

“Laid On The Shelf” . 62 

Wrinkles . 63 

Old Age .*. 64 

The Hobo . 65 

The River .*. 66 

Love . 67 








































LIFE WAVES 


123 


The Blackbird Convention .... 

Style . 

If ... 

Cheerful Thoughts . 

The City Church. 

Dying Of A Day . 

My Dream (?) . 

Today and Tomorrow . 

Evening Shadows . 

War . 

My Ship . 

The Calendar . 

The Tides . 

J Wonder Why . 

Dawn . 

Day ... 

Evening . 

Night . 

It Can Be Done . 

Ideal . 

Consolation . 

Get Busy. 

Remember To Forget . 

Boston . 

To A Friend On Her Birthday 
The Measure . 


68-69 
... 70 
... 71 
... 72 
... 73 
... 74 
... 75 
... 76 
... 77 
... 77 
... 78 
... 79 
... 79 
... 80 
... 81 
.... 81 
... 81 
... 81 
... 82 
... 82 
... 83 
... 84 
... 84 
... 85 
... 86 
... 87 


PART TWO—JUVENILE 


The Fledgling .*. 88 

Mother’s Day . 88 

Mother . * . 89 

Spring . 90 

A Wee Mouse . 90 

Caught .. 91 

Ye Olden Time .92-93 




































124 


LIFE WAVES 


That Johnson Kid . 94 

A Boy’s Idea . 95 

A Barnyard Romance .*. 96 

Miss Peach Blossom . 97 

Time Flies . 98 

Dan Cupid . 99-100 

Friendship .101-2-3 

She .104 

He .104 

My Christmas Wish .105 

Reduction . 105 

Trix .106 

Christmas Is Here .*.107 

A Helper(?) .107 

Carpet Sweeper To A Bride .*.108 

A Highway Tragedy.109 

Which? .109 

Andenken (Remembrance) .110 

Christmas Wish ...Ill 

To A Bride .Ill 

Some Peculiarities of the E. L.112 

June . 112 

PART THREE—SONGS 

Comic .113-114 

Temperance ...115-16 

Boating Song.117 

We’ll Be There .118-19 

Heart To Heart .*.120 

Notes. 125 































LIFE WAVES 


125 


NOTES: — 

* “A Day,” my first effort at writing, was written 
in 1887. 

* “A Bountiful Guest.’’ Written in 1887. From 1887 
to 1909 but few verses were written; 1909 and 1910 be¬ 
ing the most active years with the pen; then an occasional 
one up to the present time, 1922. 

* “Carpet Sweeper to a Bride,” written for a friend 
for the occasion of presenting to a prospective bride, a 
carpet sweeper dressed as a maid. 

* “A Letter To A Friend.” A letter written to E. 
M. H. in 1910 on her setting sail for Europe with a party 
of friends, and which intercepts her at Quebec, Canada. 


















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